I had breakfast under the gaze of a giant eye, I calculated it was at least twenty feet across – I walked in my breakfast bowl and reached out to the mysterious people who were looking in. June wanted to take a cereal bowl ride to town and we pulled ourselves ashore like the first Christians on Lindisfarne. I put tape on my Polyphemus eye and felt the underbelly of a sheep; June bought the greens and carrot tops and we came home as anthropomorphic fairground rides – I went up as she went down. The dog levitated to approximately twenty inches above the ground.
After June had waltzed a grandfather clock to work I had a stroll along the canals of Mars, comet dust flowing from my head like a wedding veil. I had to fly home to pull a newspaper out of the letter box and then take the dog to meet a train driver; we stood by the station entrance as a cavalcade of ostriches sped by, dog biscuits in one coat pocket and sand in the other. I turned the egg time over and painted a picture on the inside of an umbrella. When June came home from work we both went out to get the sandman. The sun went in but it never rained.
I got up early again today to visit the paper dragon slayer; several paper icons were crumpled up in the waste basket as I sat down on a piece of toast. We talked in streams of colour and I came home as bursts of orange washed against a dirty green. I walked on buses instead of sitting inside and finally got home by jumping a bridge and crawling under a gate – I let the dog open the gate later and pretended she was my chauffeur. An invisible car drove up one street and down another and then I sat in the cockpit of a space capsule and remembered my friends.
I got up early to accidentally catch a glimpse of Diana bathing; I came home dressed as a stag and then walked the dog – after this I went back to bed at the bottom of the sea. When I resurfaced I danced round the bends and then took a furry boy to town – we bought green chewing gum and garlic sweets. On my return home I saw my puzzled face in the mirror and then noticed a third wing in between my other two. I flew around the house to try out the new combination and then flew around my imagination. I noticed a man with goat horns at the front gate.
June and I went out early to fill our pockets with pine cones and then plant trees in spectacle cases which I had collected together in a hessian sack (all the potatoes which had survived the winter were planted in the mattress). We shook hands with the refugees hiding beneath the chequered sheets and then decided to walk round a garland which had fallen from the cross at the bottom of the garden. I watched a young woman walk up the road surrounded by scaffolding and remembered to put a model of a pineal gland in an envelope.
I got up and flew immediately above thin wisps of cloud which reminded me of the false smiles on the faces of strangers. I made a drumming sound on the side of a box that I had recently found in deep space and came to Earth with a bouquet of flowers. I later went to the lake and threw in a sword; slightly puzzled by the people on the bank with their arms firmly crossed – neither they or I saw an object fly out of the water and follow me home. Dark faces looked in as the sword shimmered beside my feather down bed and two birds flew overhead.
I walked in a room without objects although there was a sound glistening in the sunlight. I listened as long as I could, conscious that the island was slowly slipping below the sea. Before leaving the house I put on my Medusa wig and made sure the markings on my bracelet were correctly aligned with the first emergence of the moon. I heard the moon and called out in vain as the little men removed the tracks in a sedately sleeping village. I put the village in my pocket and removed my butterfly wings; settling down to sleep in a seaweed strewn cavern.