Head Stairs Poem by GRANT FRASER

I had a word
appear in front of a place,
but it had no face, no!

it was like the back
of a building,
a hazy facade of letters,

I would have picked another
if i'd known?

is that random,
I just took it,
looked again,
tried to find some meaning,

then it slipped off partly,

and the other cement
if I ever meant it,
is never quite real enough,

to make me feel justified,

you don't love me,
and I still thrive in ways
that require things to say...

other than that, things get lost,
but I still see terrific imagery
flying off domes and interiors,

there are no words for it, though,
just the vexation of watching
my own films in solitary confinement,

I know everybody's got there
own wall, flickering!

and things, if they materialise at all,
are something so elusive to get a hold of,

for words get buried in our acts,
and grow feinter in our mouth,

and I spit up some,
when I've forgotten...

'look it wasn't even in my mouth...'