The Wall, a Poem


With that Sign that I’m Losing to Midlife

I’d, Cleaned Off All the Remaining Bad Thoughts with the Soap Suds in the Early Mornings

Waking Up Out of a Dream, I’d Become, Old and Ill Now

Felt as if I’d Used My Teeth for Ages, My Jaws Felt, So Sore

There Seemed to be Sounds from that Hourglass in the Distance

With the Repeating Tempos of Self-Indulgence

not my sketch…

After a While, It’d Reminded Us of

How the Desert is a Fluid Old String Instrument

And, Marching Onward, Pulling the Strings Tight, Just

Marching, Marching Forward

All of a Sudden, I’d, Arrived to the Afternoon

The Sketch Artist Who Chased After the Blurred Faces of the Mass Public

In a Relaxing Polymerization

not my photo…

Becoming, the Endless Number of Teeth of Those Ancient Beasts

And, of Them All, Countless Had, Fallen, into the Midst

I’d Still Loved the Architectures So, and Not Become

Stingy to Entice All My Fellow Traveling Companions to Live with

Until My Tiresome Life Becomes the Stagnant

Like Those That Can’t Rest

Those Tired Feathers

Of the Hunting Winds

So, there’s a lot of imageries in this one, the poet paints a picture of lives that are intertwined and lives that are too tangled up, and the lives which are so tangled up together, has the desires of separating from one another, but can’t seem to find a way to, and that, would be what it feels like when we live from day to day, like there’s this tall, tall wall before us, that we can’t get across…


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