Rockabye Baby, in the treetop Dont you know a treetop is no safe place to rock? And who put you up there, and your cradle too? Baby, I think someone down here has got it in for you!

I am writing these poems from inside a lion.

Knock! knock! who's there? me! me who? that's right? what's right? meehoo! that's what I want to know! what's what you want to know? me who? yes, exactly! exactly what? yes, I have exactlywatt on a chain! exactly what on a chain? yes! yes what? no, exactlywatt! that's what I want to know! I told you-exactlywatt! exactly what? yes! yes what? yes it's with me. what's with you? exactlywatt-that's what with me. me who? yes! go away! knock knock...

At night my mind does not much care if what it thinks is here or there. It tells me stories, it invents and makes up things that don't make sense. I do not know why it does this stuff. The real world seems quite weird enough.

He wasted his wishes on wishing.

I opened my eyes And looked up at the rain, And it dripped in my head And flowed into my brain, And all that I hear as I lie in my bed Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head. I step very softly, I walk very slow, I can't do a handstand-- I might overflow, So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said-- I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

She had blue skin, And so did he. He kept it hid And so did she. They searched for blue Their whole life through, Then passed right by- And never knew.