Jane Awake Analysis

The opals hiding your lidsas you sleep, as you ride ponies
mysteriously, spring to bloomlike the blue flowers of autumneach nine o'clock. And curlstumble languorously towards
the yawning rubber band, tan,your hand pressing all thatriotous black sleep intothe quiet form of daylight
and its sunny disregard forthe luminous volutions, oh!and the budding waltzeswe swoop through in nights.
Before dawn you roar withyour eyes shut, unsmiling,your volcanic flesh hideseverything from the watchman,
and the tendrils of dreamsstrangle policemen running bytoo slowly to escape you,the racing vertiginous waves
of your murmuring need. Buthe is day's guardian saintthat policeman, and leaningfrom your open window you ask
him what to dress to wear andto comb your hair modestly,for that is now your mode.Only by chance tripping on stairs
do you repeat the dance, andthen, in the perfect variety ofsubdued, impeccably disguised,white black pink blue saffron
and golden ambiance, do we findthe nightly savage, in a trance.

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