Exult! Poem by GRANT FRASER

Haven't written in ages,
and the rages are dead - meat!

I am definitively disappearing
from what's what,

and thoughts,
if they come,
and I can't be sure,

if I ever even had one,
or some?

bad things that words
won't chew,

to shape this ill fitting
thing I carry with me,

results, or desultoryness,

this necessity for personal greed,

feeds still,

I wan't everything to come down...

not worth the spittle for some
old
shoe,

whatsnew?

I polish myself

ye know!

and persist to tear the shine off,

got to look, like it was meant!

get it...

if not in that moment,

then the very next,

when I outwit
what it is in my blood,

unrecorded, motion bound,

borne from nothing
but this unselfing,

forged!