Thought Muscle Poem by GRANT FRASER

If not just to squeeze
it out, little by little,

use the wrong words,

speculate
until it's too late,

there is nothing
in the vicinity,
for me,
in what I see,

I imagine
the shadow of it,
is furthermore,

and by the time
I get out outside
it,

and real light
ignites,
my real face,
thougths,
depth,

maybe not so
insightful...

the scenery
and all the people
are just what they are,

the beautiful slug
like imagery unclear,

anywhere between
the traffic lights
in space,

our alien shoulders,
rubbing,
but not even aware,

this thought
impossible translator,

shines down from
silver spires,
encourages ennui,

pushing mammoth
tablets of thought
around,
is life meant
to be this heavy?

if it is,
nobody prepared
me,

I need to crack
a sentence open,

and swallow back
it's runny insides,

thought muscle!