In the mind the wersal steals
and picks his way through entreals
of undigested days
that would make dreams
of dry wothered hay
that had its sappiness removed
by fearsome uncouthed broods.
And in the shadows lurks
unformed childhood quirks
that have waited patently
for the chance to prounce
and impart a drench'ed sound
to your taught pigmented lips
as you turn and churn
in greamy states of rest.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crying-out-in-sleep/
