Closer Shaves... Poem by GRANT FRASER

My god go and have
a shave,
lulp them off
your tongue
those incomprehensible
big ones...

tight little knots
of truth,
not enough proof
though!

what you got,

sliver spittle...

fwaaachhhh!

I run back
in a circuluar
circle like way,

not exact,

enough, to find
the poetry knack,
of word woof and more,

the real meaning
is between our legs,

and the eggs
well,
if it's the next
batch,

hatching into
the thrills of tissue,

well do you have
an issue with that,

the fish are fighting
their way up the canal,

as we speak, sleep,

we are decidedly
matter of machine,
& survival!