Crossing Time Poem by GRANT FRASER

Sometimes something
shuts out time
& place & everything,

Then once inside
and airtight,
a motion of another felt,

Is this recollection,
or circumspect,
live or already lived?

It makes no difference
only that I am whole inside
and explicitly conscious,

Buried in Sun or split eye,
everything leans onto me
from where you are,

We share confines
of time and place,
each yellow dry saturation,

The thief of language,
slashes mind to ribbons,
then eats out of your hand,

You make language work hard!
where as I'm incapable,
in a dark dust cloud - Whoosh!

She makes love for you, and is,
a magical place or shape,
mirrors peeling silver back,

Where is your breathe,
what does it smell of?
when it was alive, devil-may-care,

These are rabid extracations,
bellows from a red eye,
whereas the flame starts eating,

Each moment cross examined,
then flossed by a metallic tide,
legs licked dry as lolly sticks,

Look here are your eyes..
forgot to put them in!
sprouting oxygenless in a bag!