Looking Poem by GRANT FRASER

What's the point
in going hungry,

As the imagination
steadies itself
for the snapshot,
or the backdrop...

When looking up close,
a face would get in there,

Dead or Alive
that's the temptress
at work,

And as you fly higher,
infallible starlings,
yet secretive,

But Maryln still has it,
is proof enough,

For she was shot to death,
just like the Kennedy's!

So we could dream,
or see that an almighty
beautiful thing is worth it,

And that people can change us,
faces are cities to walk inside,
Bodies ranges to lie down in,

And hope that it might allow
that fleeting drowning sensation,
all so sensitive and spent,

Or to hold up an artillery
of convex mirrors to escape into,

Narcissus, should I look like you,
most peculiar to love myself back,

To enter such places,
or replace ourselves,
with what we detect to
be coming on,

A bloody good idea,
of new flesh,
and what we really want....