Senseless and inane,
foolish and profane
prattling on as if
a blithering idiot.
What could be worse
than a yawping jay?
Dreams?

Could be.
In the land of Nod
unguarded thoughts
wander aimlessly
amidst a free-range
of cow pies.
a minefield wherein
timebombs wait.

Asleep,
we have no control.
A ship with no tiller;
a car without brakes.
Thoughts traipse about
with DNA etched from memories
can be precious or impaired.

Oh, if I
could only write
the hallucinatory scenes
seen while I rest.
They might well develop
into a NYTime's best-seller,
but Woe is me, for my awakening
is equipped with a self-contained
Roto-Rooter.