After Washing A Dish... Poem by GRANT FRASER

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

like a bouncing bomb!

right through the mesh
of reality,

and go to sleep
while the sun is still out,

what if it doesn't reach
the inside - though,
and nowhereness in time
is stretched, no words applicable!

Earth & Moon
too dried up to even look,

is that the total eclipse?

and the one black orb, white blip!

your flesh lulping up and down,
against your breast cage,

old words out of use,
and yet I can't learn
or find any decent new ones,

I mean to 'have the say'
as they 'say', I said! I said! I said!

yet cannot rely on any firm meaning,

blown up out of the water,

into the so called heights again,

bouncing in the great great goodness
of absolutely nowhere...

kissing the smithereens,
as I'm hurled...