Alien Bread Poem by GRANT FRASER

The red trees
dancing in the wind,
look at us!

the green ones, too...

look! look! look!

the wind - apprehends,
who ever sees me,

apart from things
that wouldn't quite
exist so much either,

just a little bit
of force,
a propellation
off course...

so get to the bottom,
and know what moves best
the ghost in your soul,

or ashamed,
when something moves
away the rock from your
dirty heart,

beating like some unearthly
secret, and every little
sacred cranny, or button melting,

to be pressed,
kneaded like alien bread,

that has no human eyes or head,

yet pleads still, to be devoured,

alive...