Phantasmagoria

[Poem XXVI]

Come to me, sweet Sleep,
Hand-in-hand with thy brother dearest Dream.
Wings aflutter as I steal up the keep,
The stair stepped seeping at the seams.

Take me from my brick bed,
Rending the fibres of the clinging coil;
Transfigure loathsome lead
Into capricious mercury till my breast boils.

Thus unto haunted hollows,
Where Beauty waits as silken sylph;
There to faithfully follow
Her face, bedecked with gilded glyphs.

Come to me, benighted Belladonna,
With deathly, livid lips.
By thy misty waist thy fell fauna;
My life soon to slip.

Guided by the mighty moon
I will saunter through the forest full,
Which is lit by rampant runes,
Where fantasies rage and rule.

Journeys through time
Upon star-capped seas,
Experiencing sights sublime
That are mine solely to see.

My name will drop into the Deep
And will be forgotten forever.
Thus I will take a last lasting leap,
Unlashing my tautened tether.

When I drift into dream
I am welcomed well
By these themes:
Sleep's most surreal spell.

M.M. — November MMIX; Februarius, Maius, September, November MMX; Februarius MMXII