Wendy is Pregnant in Never-Land

Wendy is Pregnant in Never-Land

L. Edgar Otto    July 13, 2013

I put my foot into the Arctic Sea
one small step I in stark relief aware
Thru the fog of my dream's sunlight
awakening a forest of sea bed sponges

What an aurora of her curls
old fires, and daughter young
Deadpan that red heads report
global warm, they feel less pain

Civilized indeed the art as light
our artists can do no wrong
The Peter Pan in me moon walks
in stark craters, seeks to belong

Near the poles, some Northwest Passage
facing the icy mounds of frost and midnight sun
I did not know transfixed this awakened
in me a deep recurring dream, a shortcut

From the tropics rapidly find the gold
or the journey takes an ice bound year
Longer than the walk, than supplies
wooden ships surrounded by the ice

By the sunset watch at the beach in Victoria
when the sun never set on her empire
Spinning East receding Eden toward the
ring of fire dreams peaceful battle for the West

If we could fly on this makeshift stage
without a chord umbilical or discern the
Pitch of voice dubbed over for a child
girls playing boys, eunuchs, we'd  fly forever

The aphids Nature loves so, so many on alfalfa
when excited by one blink an aerogel cloned light
Perpetual motion they drink runneth over in poetry
as far as we can tell, they are born pregnant

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