Poet Poem Haunts Poem by GRANT FRASER

Poet Poem Haunts



I think I spend way too much
time hanging around in your
old poems,

Cause somehow
I'm in there,
and who really knows who
you are,
you could've been anybody
and who am I to say?

I'm sick of Earth & coal,
and iron ore,

Even though each bud
grew transcendental petals,

I tried to eat everything
and worst of all,
this limited self consumed,

As the bottom part wriggles
like a cut worm,
unable to repatriate,

It's a nervous avenue
of time beating,
then eating itself,
Alive! ! ! Oh no!

Time bawling and mauling,
don't waste me, burned out lips...
As the gruel of thinking
is so vast...

Gimme me some words to eat! !
such a hunger,
this imaginary poet thing,
a sort of Shakesperian tennis,

(what's betwixt...)

This preparation for dying...
for this inside, forever desiring!

Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success