Three Spaces... Poem by GRANT FRASER

Let the white space alone,
lest it be white
or bludgeoned by
thought, uninvitedly,

until something starts
hurling through,

to stab a word up
with attack,

corner some cold
lifeless thing,

to project even further
than you can mean,
as a sort protective
confinement, to keep going,

with a white coat
waving behind glass,
as you saunter past...

come out
come out
come out and get...

with a blast of camera
eyez, flattering space,

you run out again
into the white, white,
bright light of nothing,

all our thoughts
like so many hidden worlds,
avoiding and colliding,

this is too vast...
and our human nature,
just a troublesome radar,

pulsing!


II


Mug!
why just not shatter
in my groping paw,

so that blood
can deflect time,

bleeding hardly,
I know!

Rug!
why not just dye
yourself red instead,

grounds growling
brown alongside my
vessel,

shrugging!


III


For me
a secret magic
to attest some password
that opens every single
door to the mind...

Is the world truly
as mad as I think it is?

and the phlorescent essence,
a material poison,

why don't you drink
from a prickle,

there is no true solidity
inside these eyes,
and your like a cardboard ham,

steering onwards
with so many coloured cards
of plastic inside your utility belt,

the animals went in four by four,
hoorah! hoorah!

while the feline cradles
her head,
wondering if
it's still a rough deal...