Bike Crash & Hour Glass Poem by GRANT FRASER

I wonder if there
are things we don't
see connected up
to what we are,

like a ripple
or shape,
some kind of pattern,

life at the very
tip of everything!

to dazzle inside,

this week fell off
my bike,

nearly impaled
by a handlebar,

I pulled the bike
up,
staggered off
the road,
so mortal again!

pain sets in nicely,
reaches out to me
as if I've been asleep,

shock, I'm not as strong
as I thought...

in fact it was waiting
to happen,
everything is against
me, including the Gods!

I demand meaning now,
give it to me!

(apart from all the detective
work I did, to account for -
the accident) ,

Anyway my breast is
rather swollen,
and I find it hard to sleep,

where is this going, going, gone...


II


Agitated breathing,

the hour glass,
and the grey cracked
bird made of volcanic ash,

red and blue pyjama bottoms,
a discarded open book
about animal care,

mug of instant coffee,
rim stained, evidence of cookies,
and daylight streams white
through the vertical blinds,

turn the hour over,
four tiny window thumbnails
upon the shiny transparent surface,

hurt should really wake me up...