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We used to be
didn't we?
then we went our separate ways
you into the night and I
into the distance of those lonely
watching interminable television plays
based on love and romance

let loose and yet
instead of playing the field
I became a recluse
preferring to be alone
seeking no company
needing no one to comfort me
just me and the TV
and yet we
used to be
I can't forget that.
the street
not the City
and isn't that
a crying shame

on the Central
it matters not today
it's a bank holiday
and I'm on my way
( the street )
where the old meets the new
especially on New street
which funnily enough
is old.

The sun is beating down
short skirts and t-shirts
in London Town.

In a tick which is awfully quick
I'm already here
which by now you know
is the street,
a pity really
because I so like
the City.
No one
not even you
will ever know
how things will go.

Practice may make perfect
but perfect is no guarantee
of success.

The council sent a wrecking crew
which is
the sort of thing that council's do
and knocked the brick wall down
because the writing that was on it
didn't fit the image of this
and it could have been
or even Highgate Village which
is not technically a town but it
has lots of walls

Walls remind me of ghetto's
no go's
'Halt who goes there?'

But it's just word association
council aberration
normal situation
and who pays reparations
the future generations
when we've used the whole
world up or washed it all
She walked across rooftops
collecting dreams from sleeping children
and placed them safely
in the nest of the arms of the stars above

She is the music in the silence
and the words and hope
in every wish and prayer

She taught fire the art of poetry
and then set the sun ablaze
and let it drift off into the sky

She carved the moon from the moody sky
and taught it the language
of melancholy lullabies
and then pinned it to the night

She is part

ocean and mist

   sand and shore

    mountain and river

      breeze and wind

       leaf and branch

and is in everything
  that is beautiful about love

If you are lucky you might hear her footsteps
gliding gracefully over your roof
and in dreaming you will see her smile
and in seeing her smile you will know
why the stars glimmer and shine
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
He dreamt of mice
and he dreamt of gods
and he dreamt of mice
that were gods
and gods that feared mice
and he dreamt of secrets
that he could not tell
and of memories
that were not his
and he dreamt of days
that wished they could see nights
and nights that ignored mornings
and he dreamt
that the planets were fish
and that the ocean
was let loose to swim in the sky
and through the emptiness of space
and that man was never made
of flesh or bone
and that men where children of mice
mice that knew too many secrets
and they would not share
any of those secrets with man
but they would share
their milk and their cookies
and tell men how to avoid cats
when cats dream
because when cats dream
they become bigger than mice
and become more loved than gods
and in their purring
is the death song
of the kingdom of mice
and without mice
and their kingdom safe
that man would be lost children
that looked like worms
to the planets that swam like fish
in the ocean that floated
in the emptiness of space
and then he woke
and did not remember
what he had dreamt
and scurried across the floor
and ate some cookies
and scanned the darkness
for any cats that might
dare to sleep
and in sleeping dream
and dream the beginning
of the end of everything
The Hempstock mice know all
all that is good
and all that is bad
and all that is too horrible to be known
they are the oldest of the old
they come from a place before
the place of nothing
and the time before
the beginning of the first time before
and if you believe the rumors
or if you don’t believe the rumors
they will be here long after
the last time of all

They have traveled the abyss
and set sail in and charted the void
they can gnaw through time and space
and reality is nothing
they cannot bend
or turn
or rearrange
or extinguish with just a thought

Let us be thankful
that they are animals of kindness
creatures of wisdom
spirits of love
and mice that believe in forgiveness

Their paws are hands that craft things
all things
from the first heart of the first star
to the black feathers
of the first raven and crow
they will craft the quill and the ink
that will write last word
of the last story to ever be told

They named the gods
that named your parents
that named you
and painted the names
of tomorrows children
in the heart of yesterdays dreams

They have seen the end
since before the beginning
and when nothing comes back
they will swallow






and keep them safe in their belly
and gnaw through to new beginnings
and their paws will be busy hands
crafting things
all things
and when they have made
the universe comfortable once more
they will let us fall
from the belly of their womb
and we will be the children of tomorrow
born from the heart of yesterday

Oldest of the old
wisest of the wise
kindest of the kind

Mice of all mice
mothers and fathers
of love and forgiveness

The Hempstock Mice
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