When a dull dolt plays, as opposed to thinks,

colourless green ideas sleep furiously.

It happens all the time. Just ask a three-year old.

They know: the children with emerald eyes.

In their world, where the flight of chased breath

enwraps them in timeless glee and where boxes

open magic locks, sometimes toys don’t have

a missing you to put them back together.

It depends on which side of the sea and land

you drifted to in your travels – for you.

And sleep can sometimes be hard to fathom.

 

And you have to try really, really hard.

And sometimes get very, very angry

with yourself before you can float beyond

your parents’ jammed safety jib into a world

where the exquisite corpse will drink the new wine.

And the very idea has thin air.

And where mountains move and exquisite corpses

sleep furiously having drunk the new wine.

And where you dissolve into colorless green.

How exquisitely puddles evaporate

and pour into clouds and streams of dreams.