GRANT FRASER Poems

You write other things
on a blind wall,
glasses on,
...

I can't help it if
I look at you like that,

I can't help the thing
...

It's the pinnacle,
not to sound
like anything
else,
...

Who cares
as you hit the memory
or the thought of it
right there,
...

Find me in a poem,
I suppose that's
where it is,
...

I have problems
understanding your
kind of predictability,
...

Did I get sick of your perpetual
cleverness,
sure, there was an honest
raw attention in everything
...

It's mad...mad...maddest!
ten of those things frozen
along your image socket,
...

I Imagine one truly
brilliant line is all
we yearn for,
...

We'll just
have to make do,

As your buried
...