Polar Void Poem by GRANT FRASER

looks like it's dead,
with it's shutters
clean open - wide!

'Night' as Hell!

contractions
contraptions
contradictions
contra
con.

there are no
pictures for it!

self's highway
a multifarious trapping,

you Kriss - Cross
through time instead,
hardly realising,

that this is it...

as life ticks down
beneath the Hot Sun,

with an accompaniment
of music inside you,

to solder every second
that you lived, quietly
listening or watching
And a strange shadow dance,
of steeples and peoples,

and Summer's of sweat,
Love darting behind a solitary star,

and a cold gleam of cars stowing,

as a metal sheet unwraps itself,
around the contorted body,

time vibrating in a hot & cold
glass,
a segment of green lifeless fruit,
left unconsumed,

A billion world's awaiting..

As every record takes you back,
back, to a time, connective of self.