Grappling Poem by GRANT FRASER

Grappling with whatever
comes your way,

a moment flash-light
millisecond past it....

the speed of what to do?

(now) the lozenge, sticks!

why not melt into (2) ,

And in a sort of vague
glimmer,

to alternate
and disappear,

rever the hook,
for climbing up
clocks spilling seconds,
from unimaginative long
dark strands,

'oh! I've got digital innards,
to work through',

time exposure
along a different space,

I mean, the words, words,
if they want to come...

we just want to smell your
secret hands,
every face ticks knowingly,

and the compartimental
light is blinding...
as the mimic feeds you,

to revive and displace
the body,
moment of convulsion,
I mean "heartbeat acceleration",

he loves me, she loves me, we love me,
you of scorn,
they abound and dissolve all around it,

and the message
without a face,
flies empty!

Wait up,

we're all chasing something
different inside,
yet reenter at the same place,

so many many eyes
at a great distance, sticking out,
like multifarious coloured orbs,

taking each other in...behind a shield....