Yesterday's sleep was but a dream 
In and around a pipe, just nothing
Not a smoke in curls, only nothing,
Nothing that is not content, a form
With nothing as content in the pipe.

A shout from a milkman is nothing 
In the dark of a basement in sleep.
A dog's bark is nothing in its sleep
And away  from a dog's tail wagging
To milkman's pants in morning call.
The poem is vacuum living in a pipe
Sucking in vacuum ,from air of space.

A star's nothing touches a roof-slab
Like the tree in  vacuum, its leaves
Touching its nothing  from the past.
The poem is a pipe with nothing in it
A vacuum sucked in from air of space.