When I wake at 4:30 in the a.m.
I find myself letting the awakeness wash over me
I peer into the rectangular void
And consider that it cannot be filled
I become vertical
Force water through dirt
Sip the dirt
And open a book called Power
By Bertrand Russell
This Victorian math mat tish an
Presumes to presumption
But he’s not entirely off
In recommending that domination be a mistake
As the destination for God-ishness seems to be as well
With the digs at Nietzsche
And the polemic against Frichte
My foggy-dirty brain
Clocks in at unpowered
No arguments to match
When was the last night of fully deep sleep?
I’d like some power over that, on this body I keep
But perhaps I can do a poem
With more well-filtered dirt
Roman Ryan 