It's 2 AM. Do you know where your muse is?

I am made of sticks of wheat
My ass is made of grain
I fell upon the cookie sheet
with poultry in my brain.

The cuckoo bird was half past X
The dancing in the streets
was hailed by subtle genuflects
and draped with merry meat

In time the fickle mind did cede
without a friend or bone
So nuns shall now forever breed
My name is Al Capone.

Pictures

More sleepthoughts

I fell asleep while reading Portait of the Artist and I dreamt that I was writing a country song about James Joyce. Here's the two lines I remember:

"He came in last in the 5k race
cause he was too busy staring at mother nature's face"

I think the title of the song was "young aesthetician"

Enjoy the view
she said, she said

that beach down there
is the air ahead

where this condo home
is a spider web

you can watch the tide
but you can also dread