I am writing these poems from inside a lion.

Do a loony-goony dance 'Cross the kitchen floor, Put something silly in the world That ain't been there before.

If you're a bird, be an early bird. But if you're a worm, sleep late.

Oh I'm lookin' for my missin' piece I'm lookin' for my missin' piece Hi-dee-ho, here I go, Lookin' for my missin' piece

i made myself a snowball As perfect as can be. I thought I'd keep it as a pet, And let it sleep with me. I made it some pajamas And a pillow for it's head. Then last night it ran away, But first - It wet the bed.

I made an airplane out of stone. . . I always did like staying home.

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.