“Lullaby For the CatMinnow, go to sleep and dream,Close your great big eyes;Round your bed Events prepareThe pleasantest surprise.Darling Minnow, drop that frown,Just cooperate,Not a kitten shall be drownedIn the Marxist State.Joy and Love will both be yours,Minnow, don't be glum.Happy days are coming soon --Sleep, and let them come...”

“But he sleeps on the top of his mastwith his eyes closed tight.The gull inquired into his dream,which was, "I must not fall.The spangled sea below wants me to fall.It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all.”

“Close, close all nightthe lovers keep.They turn togetherin their sleep,Close as two pagesin a bookthat read each otherin the dark.Each knows allthe other knows,learned by heartfrom head to toes.”

“The moon in the bureau mirrorlooks out a million miles(and perhaps with pride, at herself,but she never, never smiles)far and away beyond sleep, orperhaps she's a daytime sleeper.By the Universe deserted,she'd tell it to go to hell,and she'd find a body of water,or a mirror, on which to dwell.So wrap up care in a cobweband drop it down the wellinto that world invertedwhere left is always right,where the shadows are really the body,where we stay awake all night,where the heavens are shallow as the seais now deep, and you love me.”

“The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.”

“Exchanging HatsUnfunny uncles who insistin trying on a lady's hat,--oh, even if the joke falls flat,we share your slight transvestite twistin spite of our embarrassment.Costume and custom are complex.The headgear of the other sexinspires us to experiment.Anandrous aunts, who, at the beachwith paper plates upon your laps,keep putting on the yachtsmen's capswith exhibitionistic screech,the visors hanging o'er the earso that the golden anchors drag,--the tides of fashion never lag.Such caps may not be worn next year.Or you who don the paper plateitself, and put some grapes upon it,or sport the Indian's feather bonnet,--perversities may aggravatethe natural madness of the hatter.And if the opera hats collapseand crowns grow draughty, then, perhaps,he thinks what might a miter matter?Unfunny uncle, you who wore ahat too big, or one too many,tell us, can't you, are there anystars inside your black fedora?Aunt exemplary and slim,with avernal eyes, we wonderwhat slow changes they see undertheir vast, shady, turned-down brim.”

“Thought about sleeping in my bed, but decided I'd rather be in yours. Hope you don't mind...Have a great week.""So long as you leave your pajamas in your own room. They have no place in mine. Sleep tight.”