A Sheep On High Poem by GRANT FRASER

Here, grab a handful
and sit in a corner
of your head,

this one doesn't
work,
but this one,

it hits consciousness
clean in the face!

words
they're either defunct
or just stab you out of sleep,

sheep with no more
reasons but to sleep
until they are shorn or led,

into that great field of green
and nothing new...

I baah! and baah!

and can't get my coat
to sit right,

as far as meaning goes,
I have no clothes truly
noticable enough,

just a very thin coating
of thought, that I got,

always wearing me out,

I plant others, while trying
to decieve my other self,

you can't watch something
grow, somehow that's not allowed,

anyway I have to go now,
as something has to give,

and don't turn around,
or look back,

streak of knowledge
one hopes to find....