MY NAME CAN BE FOUND IN THE ALPHABET IF ONE OBTAINS THE FOURTH...THE FIFTEENTH...THE FOURTEENTH... FIRST... TWELFTH AND TWELFTH AGAIN LETTERS TAKING CARE TO USE A CUTE ACCENT ON THE 15TH LETTER.

Alice was having 40 winks
( but she hadn't yet got to wink no. 13 )

when she was so very rudely
interrupted by a giant hand

taking her '...IN WONDERLAND"
down from the topmost shelf

she had been resting on
for many many months undusted.

"Welllll!" thought Alice to herself
'...that blew the cobwebs away!"

yawning loudly as it dawned
upon her what had

befallen her pages.

She couldn't tell that the hand was
Irish...but it was indeed.

"A great wind blew and
I was scattered!"

she remembered the ****** Queen's speech
or words...to that effect...not exactly right.

The hand was the hand
of an Irish poet

and with a howl she
fell through a vowel

in his voice "O!"&
again "O!"

landing with a thump on her
coccyx

in the middle of a white white
page.

It was as if
all the world had turned

to snow & "O!" she said &
"O!" once again and again.

"It would appear that I am
about to be

poemed by this
Irish poet person!"

Alice had become quite
adept

at talking to her hand
because her face did not want to know.

And so with a final flourish she
found her self scribbled

and held down by his words.

"Really his handwriting is
illegitimate!"

she told herself as she
tottered upon

a final full stop that
continued on

until it had become an
. . .

as darkness fell just as
the covers closed upon

the Jane Austen 5 Year Diary
she was being written into.

She continued oooOOOing
although she knew it was

very unbecoming
for a Victorian child

composed mostly of Carrollian words
& Tenniel'd cross hatchings.

The Irish poet had vanished back
into the kitchen

to make a cup of
Earl Grey Tea.

"Mmmmm!" he said to himself
& again

"....mmmmmMMMMM!"