the-wall-011207.mp3
for the text, follow ‘more’…
red, crimson, pointed stone
not only for its essence but
for the placement of splotches
that testify to many impacts
heedless, running, headlong
meeting, all my being flat
tight against it
reaching as if for a lover
reaching as if it is possible
to get through
how many lives, years, moments
screaming to its solid face
limed, grimed, laced and lathered
careful construction, solid
crumbs and grains and mortars
mixed with sweat, with tears
trowel of thought, expectation
stacking slowly
memories and hopes and dreams
mashed into thick paste
set into the sun to dry
placed by trembling hands
loving its monolithic form
rising into forever
towering higher
than i can reach
backing away slowly
determination and desire
revving the mind into rage
foaming, frothing, and fearful
i often wonder
if maybe this time
i’ll make it
through
past
beyond
blood thumping
legs pumping
all my everything
that is nothing
churning, burning
pell mell heedless rushing
feel the wind’s caress
feel as if i’m flying
crying, trying, dying
closer, oh closer
i can see infinity
and then
meeting, all my being flat
tight against it
reaching as if for a lover
reaching as if it is possible
to get through
but how do i get through me
when i’m not really there
how long does it take
to tear down
a brick wall
that doesn’t exist