I’m not sömnambulitic,
not katolik to my drömn.
Instead I stay kross’d to
öwllwö and wait, impatiently,
for maa to kadöutt into
gull, and everything the charms
bring snaran to hjeart.
How are you sömn, Charlie?
– Aaron Kent
i am sleeping klusi between fine strands of spalvu my friend
in a visumā i have never seen
new language flowers over the seas of zelta
apollo flies into the plašā plašumi of space
i feel kā fred astaire with a hangover vai nancy sinatra with a perm
manas vēnas glitter ar nitroglycerin
pasaulē that is at my fingertips or at manas rīkles
pasaulē that i wander through hoping that someone will call my name
– Charlie Baylis