Sunday Stint Poem by GRANT FRASER

Get up, in this or that
way, die secretly,

focusing
on breakfast time,

electrical things
lightening up,

eating, and
then cleaning dishes,

hovering around
a book cover,

unsure,

'plane blowing up! ',

partial sinking,

'Pluto' the Budgieregar
twittering madly & chirping,

'James' watching 'Doctor Who'
in the next room,

myself postponing things
yet be done,

the enlightenment, hoovering,
around a half decent poem,

seething in a dream mirror,

admitting this, instead..