Ten million poems,
in little boxes bewildering
Ten million hearts
black around the edges,
but the faces don't
we Ten million have no
where left to go,
Ten million poets in shorn
sawn off places around the world,
showing thought like flesh!
we are Ten million worthier...
these Ten million bars of internet
space have got me,
I eat their ****!
Swallow the window poison!
I'm going to have to have to build
an escape pod into a real place,
with Ten million things scattered along
the information highway,
call it my internet DNA if you may,
But sorry ' The structure is corrupted,
the programme defunct! '.
GRANT FRASER's Other Poems
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