Cake Poem by GRANT FRASER

A swiss sponge
with a man in it!
rolling,

with dark jam
carousing
out of this cake hole,

the angry eater
appeases it,

it meant nothing!

your words aren't
even red enough?

they're dead, you hear,
dead! dead! dead! ..

we've got 'mummifications',
stuff crumbling like drab
old powder, that just won't
live again...

hold on, the whole roof
is coming in;
hit by literal ghosts
and all self meaning,

oh! help us, oh! great one's!
for great nostalgia and new emends,

pull the ground out
beneath us,
please - we need to fall harder
in future,
fumbling on 'origins unknown',

eye for one,
tear my pretend heart
out,
and fake again
to repeat,
and eat what can't
be felt,

I mean,
give me something
unheard of to feel,

we are rolled up
in a carpet of nothing....