In Forests Of Calculated Nonsense Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

in forests of calculated nonsense,
did Alice dream (eventually) :
things are exceptionally cruel here

and so, wake herself up by the
summer's riverbank?
or is it kind in the dream, the book,

but unkind in the waking.
the puzzle trees breaking
like porcelain unfortunate at Tea Time

across the glaced brooks

and, back on earth, in your own
room again-
just as you find in books,

the same dread things awaken, too?
this time, meaning it.
(you know you do, said Alice curtseying)

the gleam on the White Night's
equivocal armour the very same gleam
bouncing off of the Rose Red Queen's

slightly askew, unjustified,
rubied tiara.

mary angela douglas 11 january 2016

P.S. In this case though all other references are specific to Alice in Wonderland, that kind of atmosphere, I also wanted deliberately to spell White Night (in reference to the beauty of Petersburg Russian White Nights and their poets) instead of, of course, the character, The White Knight in Alice still wanting that allusion, illusion obliquely to stand...