Daydreaming. T’just drift… & drift… & drift…
hot-air balloon
cruising at smooth gemstone altitudes
Through Reality’s rift
Till all the gimcrack classrooms and bedrooms dissolve
Midst the dreamer’s spellbound doppler shift; each fertile thought
Blossoming flowers
Along the sky’s cirrus canopy for curious onlookers below
To gawk. “My goodness, what remarkable gardens
they must grow up there!” they’ll all think…
Snip… Snip… Snip… One by one the stitching
of pensive hearts u
n
r
a
v
e
l,
unstaunched — the same ol’ familiar gash
opened raw, letting bleed the dreams deferred
From the subconscious cache. Pussyfooting
From space oddities too taboo? How absurd.
During these untouchable moments
the baby crib bars are blurred
And our sleeping child within’s stirred and sits
up, grasping for curiosity’s spectacular compass
pointing spritely towards the infinite ways
we may wander in the untrodden noggin —
Fantasy’s treasured tavern as ours to plunder,
And us steadily drunk off all the possibilities.