From Patti Smith's book, M Train: 
It describes the output of her writing as if she were an "optimistic zombie propped up by pillows, producing pages of somnambulistic fruit—not quite ripe or overripe."

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Bed in Summer
by Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night  
And dress by yellow candle-light.  
In summer, quite the other way,  
I have to go to bed by day.  

I have to go to bed and see         
The birds still hopping on the tree,  
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet  
Still going past me in the street.  

And does it not seem hard to you,  
When all the sky is clear and blue,  
And I should like so much to play,  
To have to go to bed by day?