maybe now I can sleep


I am okay
small in my why and who
I believe the you
nothing tasks passion like space
it is late
you being the night
to completely have way
my painted bath of taken looks
for anyone who has their due
you are out and I am listening
about traces
authors knock moments
an ordinary mood
to men putting mostly nothing
knock him
don’t you do it
several doors
you another


source of the cut-up: a chapter from a novel I am writing


Naked in espadrilles


It was entertaining
the pain-bringing of my burden
lifting like a curtain

We clash’d and we were bruised
in sweaty battles and southern comfort
in the wettest puddles
ever had. Including mine.
That sounds very Seuss

Let’s discuss how mean
to not find a soft place to land
after un-relenting grey skies with rain

I understand you conquered the beast-
my second-best pen
telling stories from the davenport
melting the ice–left and neglected
the flood taking over the house

I am undaunted–laughing at the rules–
meditating on how the mind is the sexiest organ
and on how we used to be good

The poem is a cut-up or found poem from my own writings
The painting is by Théo van Rysselberghe, unknown title

Her final act

blue dress.png

Her life’s work:

by the gaunt gentleman
his speech fled
fifty years gone
his serenity stolen
by carelessness

It wasn’t as if
she had never naught
to do with it
reposed for years, in
a woe-begotten design

His life reclaimed
she departed
her layers of blue silk
a tourbillon on the plain
the gentleman
bowing from a distance

All has concluded.


Jigsaw Cut-up poetry via writings from Sean Fraser @TheatreSean