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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact

"Walls" (by Joe DiMino)

You need 4 walls for a room—
Doors are optional
When built from
The inside out;
Mine have no windows,
Having found looking off
Into distance
A distraction—
(No kitchen and toilet puns,
For this is not about
Consuming and venting)—
My room is also
Fairly square—
A thing I have
About measured evenness;
Even wiggle room
Must be precise
And within margins (not true wiggle, I guess)—
My worlds (more than one) (more than one room) (more than one interior)
Are generally a ballance between
Something I have
And something I want;
Someone I know
And someone unknowing—
Rooms for all in me—
The compartment-self;
One room at a time
Or a full house—
I stand in the foyer
Of a new dwelling—
Having entered through a garden (I believe)—
Gardens can be rooms
Of structured rows
And eclectic colors;
Charming picket fences
For tidy framing;
Far off mountains
Are just larger walls
Of bigger rooms;
Even flatlands
Stretching miles away
Meet only greater walls
Of horizon-sky—
Though I’m certain,
I included,
Most of us have been inclined
to think
Of sky as
Ever expansive—
But birds,
Diminutive thinkers,
Wisely show us
The limits to high—
And when reasoning further,
For it is just my
Perpetual way,
At point Z
When all faculties
Fail me—
In vast increments
My knowable line before me
Stretched out—
At the end
Eternity becomes
An incomprehensible wall—

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