As if I had not raged
through years of engineering exactitude
raging against its rigidity
its tight lipped conventions
propping up dubious truths.
I erected walls about my true self;
the dancer on the green,
the flower gatherer,
the dreamer.
The cracks in my wall glowed
enough to attract lovers.
But the protective walls
protected far too much,
and soul death haunted me.
Kent Bowker
6/3/2012
I’m back today, but I’m still thinking about yesterday’s response to the poem “paintings.” It was spontaneous, and I know why I did it, but I was surprised at how intense I felt. I’m usually more sensitive to what most people think of as “appropriate” boundaries. But, when I read this poem, I experience a similar spontaneity, except the feelings are not as intense. Again, it came from the last lines of each poem. In this one: “But the protective walls protected far too much, and soul death haunted me.” I told you I found your choice of words amazing. You gave me the impression you thought I was flattering you. Honestly Kent, that’s not the truth, no more than I am criticizing you when I analyze these two poems. Your word choice makes me wonder if you really are an atheist. But either way, I absolutely accept who you are, but I hope didn’t offend you.