On the subject of 2005

Office Girl »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2005.

Filed under 2005,Love,Poems,Romantic


It was enough – a glance backward
As you, the figure of my dreams
(And in my dreams)
formed still more form
in its place.
Yes, you walked as first we shaped ourselves
In gardens of Eden
(Before their loss.)
Triumphant even –
Your body figured
In light and space
And all the street was yours
Because of this.
Yet by the time I thought liking mutual
You had gone to ‘office militant’
To be alone again.

The Weight Of One Ton »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2005.

Filed under 2005,Poems


Enter via a dark tunnel

    the wild furnace

      of one on top of another –

in a second each replaces another

by tumbling down of numbers

                                    in towers,

of electronic thunder

      flashing signals

to each ‘another’

     as rivals in battle


merger and take-over;


               high up over London

         pitching formulas

into the morning rush hour





bet against themselves

all spontaneous and specialist


while falling

a long way and back again

singing to themselves “amen”

                          (even amidst the raging storm)



           friction of numbers

                    every aspect of their life living

looks down on us, muted

spewed forth from heated tunnel –

each step a march concentrated

        and without thinking

              in a glass eye of blind tempo,

tools ready, eyes ahead,


we hold the weight of one ton on our backs

                        backing them

We Shall Rule Every Exchange By Christmas »

B.H. Fraser

February 12th, 2005.

Filed under 2005,Poems


Now appearing surrounded by churches
    Without their priests or guilds,
Our screens stand watching themselves ‘not for daybreak’
    But for payment.
Distracted, the old dealer’s view is fixed
    On spires and steeples,
Dominated by further cluster and all prominent –
    Telling us of Tokyo,
The Footsie or Paris holding –
    For new marriage to begin.
Now silenced not by outcry
    But each silence matched by itself,
We shall rule every Exchange by Christmas
    Quietly but well.

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