The train ploughs through the night,in a manner of speaking, as sleeper ploughs through a sleep in the train. Everything is a manner of speaking.
(Sleeper may be my wife in the train but that is not manner of speaking)
Poem words are best allowed to fly off from the rails where the train’s wheel ploughs the night to let off its sparks in manner of speaking, riding a night when sparks of silence fly off a sleep while the train is ploughing the night.
(Like the knife sharpener in the street as his foot ploughs through machine),
Words are sparks flying off night like from knife sharpener’s machine,sparks that do not light lonely nights but are just another manner of speaking.
The Morning is Just a Dream 
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