A long time after bedtime
When it's very late
When even dogs dream
And there's deep sleep
Breathing through the house

When the doors are locked
And the curtains drawn
And the shops are dark
And the last train's gone
And there's no more traffic in the street
Because everyone's asleep
Then....

The window cleaner comes
To the main shop fronts
And polishes the glass
In the street-lit dark

And a big truck rumbles past
On it's way to the dump
Loaded with the last
Of the day's trash

On the twentieth floor
Of the office tower
There's a lighted window
And high up there
Another night cleaner's
Vacuuming the floor
Working nights on her own
While her children sleep at home

And down in the dome of the observatory
The astronomer who's waited all day for the dark
Is watching the good black sky at last
For stars and moons
And spikes of light
Through her telescope
In the middle of the night
While everybody sleeps

At the bakery
The bakers in their floury clothes
Mix dough in machines
For tomorrow's loaves of bread

And out by the gate
Rows of parked vans sit
For their drivers to come
And take newly baked
Bread to the shops
For the time when the
Bread eaters wake

Across the town at the hospital
Where the nurses watch in the dim-lit wards
Someone very old shuts their eyes
And dies
Breathes their very last breath
On their very last night

Yet not very far away on another floor
After months of waiting
A new baby's born
And the mother and father
Hold the baby and smile
And the baby looks up
And the world's just begun
But still, everybody sleeps

Now through the silent station
Past the empty shops
And the office towers
Past the sleeping streets
And the hospital
A train with no windows
Goes rattling by

And inside the train the sorters sift
Urgent letters and packets on the late night shift
So tomorrow's mail will arrive in time
At the towns and villages down the line

And the mother
With the wakeful child in her arms
Walking up and down
And up and down
And up and down
The room
Hears the train as it passes by
And the cats in the yard
And the night owl's flight
And hums hushabye hushabye
We should sleep now
You and I
It's late and time to close your eyes

It's the middle of the night.

Sudden arrest of a newbies last beat The heaven of angels in unsown retreat the build the divide the sorters last query folds under the
tongue of liars defeat as the way of our walking retreads it's own view the catalysts cataclysm renders me new
And the whole quake of emptiness battles my head asthe muse with her wander to the fiery edge does cast out intrusions beyond what we're fed

Tension, is it local
or global, inner or outer?

Are we at the mercy of the goodness
that formed us from

dust of mostly one star birthing event,
considering

the heliosphere has an outer edge,
we have probed,
probably, unless the lie is so far flung
as to hold the AI in a univocal
universe

--- no --- we, the common first voiced
harmony, we, the people,
mit unalienable right
to interfere,

should I see you drowning just there
I may offer thoughts and prayers and be
mocked,

but why would you think I care?
I am not mocked, I am unique, none know
the geus I use to sort the good
from the useless…

hear a word, see a line, take a thought
form a precept,
fit that into the common sense,

move on, emote a grin punktuated,
precisely here; with a wink, and a breath.

Hmmmm, see. What you imagine;
no difference,
nothing changes, so
we know we
live in this common sensed state, earthling being,
mentalated, tooled to think problems are lessons,

loose the too tight, tighten the too loose;
find the balance ever tipped to good,
think
Fibonacci. Do it, think Nautili's fossils,
Sunflowers, Pinecones,

twist and knot, tie and bind;
loose and find.

----
the evil ideas men make up, meet our made up mind.

we are the hero, not me,
not you, not any
one of you;

we, the made up, arti-ficed mental tool, novel
users of the current to empower an idling wit-
ness of the creation to guess each saw one light,

fractionated in all the whole numbers, whole bits
of all that is
in ever lasting form,
informing us as living words, that we are ladders

-slip--
grip, hold on,
we is you and me and we are joined only by
knowing.

Said to be the original sin. Watchathank?
The idea of the error that may be imagined un
recoverable,
that is the creator's utmost fear,
the beginning of wisdom, measure reason,
fear appeared,

why? Lost?
Why would the omniscience be wary of error?

Well, do tell.

--- The imagined us-ness, we, the alienated,
the unfit for service,
useless,
but, preserved, by law, because, otherwise

I do not exist. As a novel thought forming lines,

credit where credit
was due, all, my transgressions are past, imagine that.
What good is a prison?
- Where?
In a made up mind, do we have ideas we lock away,
de-platforming, placeless aches and pains,
abused - used for evil ends - rage release, dam

god dams, kurios forces of wedom, sorters
sorting on herd size,
quant-ified opinions to dare the leap into war…

and be no more reasonable now than ever,
before or after.

Novels of this sort are in a genre, see.
Avant Idealy-bobish,

we, as an informed state of minds in peaceful agreement.
We are not marked by any beast,
our scars support the story.

We are the hero of the whole truth and nothing but.
See, the ache, in your bit of the core,
having not risen to celebrity,
since highschool,
and not then, if you are honest and you identified
with the losers in the aftermath of 1967,
children born to the Nixon fans,
now aching to believe,
some story holds a key to the oath, spare me spare me
I lied
I said I know, I know I know
so many times, and I'm
so sorry; just so, and nada mas, y'know, we is not me.

I only lied when I did not know better.
Except, y'know, when I did it to save myself a hassle.
Which is peacemaking, if when peace is made,
that lie won't try to choke it in the crib.

No lie though, the imbalance that make things continue, that's one mysterious iniquity, 'fy'axt me.

******, ******
Just orders, protect borders
Justice and order, Fixers and sorters
Guts on a camcorder
**** out if you can afford her
**** hotels for the soldiers
Taped and stored in federal folders
Holes in daughters
Blood and *** drips as you hold her
Got questions, torture and water boarders
Doers, leaders, fuhrers
Child soldier bullets go pitter patter, splatter    
Colonial slavers are the industry pavers
Acceptable loss, lawyers and waivers
Watch or ignore it with entertainers
Silver screen lives and liars
Fired and dead reporters
****** in the mortar
So **** your leaders
Or live in hell forever