​1.

​Reaching my longing arms
up to the skylight,
​& (through the roof
of all my day's doings,
my it-things &
​my can't-wait-till-later-things)
finding the lacy edges
​of my dream's petticoats,
I pull them over my head.

My lungs open

my mind through my throat.
​My hair longs loosely backwards,
​seeking out from behind
my ears;
​halfly-spreading
in the thickening air
that drags me sleepilingly
away.

Eyes shut, I slip

​through one of the thousands
​of open star-holes in the sky
that let the sun in
at night,
and sigh promise-whispers
to the wind-ears
​listening from faraway
galaxies to all the night noises -
​including me.

​My legs stretch out,

invading
sleeping cat territory
at the bottom of the bed and reaching
​'till my feet gasp
the cooler outside air
and my toes
curl in
(to) the wonderland sleepsand
​dusting up like moonclouds
​from astronauts' leaping fly-walks
​around my planet bed.

​2.

​The wonderland wetgrass
is cool,
chilling my baby toes
​& rubbing water
into my soul(s)

​3.

​(here everything floats)

Thought-words seem to echo
and bump
against inner ears
before settling in,
to be heard yawning
for the last time,
curling into their lip-corners
and mind-bends
to rest

& let other words
bounce themselves
to sleep.

​Happy, sleepy souls float (here),
bouncing briefly
against the (resting) words and settling
​more quickly
into your soul-
eyes
than the last of the end-of-day talk
​leaves your soul-ears in peace.

​(light moves faster
​than sound)

​I catch sound-bites
in my translucent web-
fingers
​and taste them
on the tip of my tongue:
​closer
than they were all day
​to being known
for what they really are.

Happy, sleepy soul-voices float (inside)
and meet each other
halfway to know-man's-land.

Always before it gets too late:
Just in time
​with me now.


​4.

I breathe the wonderland wet air

and keep the evening smells captive;
​letting the jasmine waves
​wash me over and under
​the frangipani clouds;
opening
​& (en)closing(ly) rubbing
against me
​before they leave me behind
in their misty summer dreams

(Being outside at night
​was always a kind of magic to me).

​I move between

​(the softening bedclothes)
​next to the stardust paths,
​(absently nudging the bedlinen
into remembering frozen winds
​& flying in greasy seaside gales
​and celebrating Christmas pageant plays,
​trailing glitter dust)

I touch

​the soaking soft mosswalls
​of (my) labyrinth night-world(s);
​fingerprinting my life-years
​and scar-days
​onto their furry parchments
​for other night-walk(er)s
​and dream-travel(ler)s
​to find in a million years.

​Does anybody know the way
back to the frangipani trees?

​5.

Their egg-yellow flower centers
​& velvetpinkwhiteyellow petals
burn incense to the fairy-godmothers
of flowers and poetry
​& lead me by the nose;
​(convincing me nightly to leave the living room
in search of their fragrant memories
​& subconscious moments).

Roses open here at day-ends
and breathe out their poemspells,
blushing
us with pleasure
​& drawing out (at last)
little hideaway smiles
at ourselves
​from our petrified dream faces.

Even the day-butterflies
​fly at night here;
​fluttering in my hair
and tickling the air around
​my flickering eyes.

​6.

​I breathe deep

as Wonderland water flows
in icy-cold stream gurgles
all night,
​steaming at the not-so-cold night air,
​(anomaly of water?)
​giggling in the dark
​& sharing jokes out-loud
with the rocks (underneath)
our pillows.

​Cricket songs and frog accompaniments
gather in thick swarms
that, sleep-walking through,
you cannot help
​getting in your ears.

​7.

​I dream (a used dream).
​
​Soft-silk eyelashes shiver
against each other... &

​in the corner of the night-wet
garden of our 'once-upon-a-time' house
​the whole town lies
inside-out and blinking
against the backs of my closed eyelids.
Hard as hail:
still-life.

I raise my arms over my head,
​not believing, but knowing
that I lift up next to the paw-paw tree
​past the outside room, seeing the gutters,
hovering
​over the back-door neighbours concrete
wall and looking in-
​to their children's
​playground, sprinkled with tonight's
​forgotten toys.

Higher, faster:
​all familiar (funny how we know
what it looks like from the top).
Higher, lower;
​smelling the early-morning misty warmths
​like swimming in a sunny-shady pool
​(cold-cold-warm-cold) &
​talking to my sister
​about flying from the back-garden.

(she has the same dream)


​8.

I sleep.

All my day-dreams surround me,
​whispering,
talking,
​laughing
at me, mingling
​with each other and folding
​ridiculously fluffy egg-white fantasies into the
fairy-cake mixture
carefully,
not beating too much,
keeping the air in:

​bosses in my kitchen and
children's voices:  mine
​and Me
in my pyjamas
on the school's front lawn - 
a navy blue sky
at midnight signalling the end of the world and stairs
going nowhere in the dark
​         Dèjá vu dèjá vu dèjá vu dèjá
vu ...

​Reality escapes;  stirring

​9.

warm butter (toasts) into the (dark)
​drinking-chocolate voices
melting through my senses,
​and whispering at my sleep-warmed face;
​thick, swirling voices
curling coffee smells
around my waist,
​running sticky honey down
​my arms & legs,
merging into one

​smoothing sound
​and one

​10. ...