While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences — O at the Edges

While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences I write poems when I can, in late morning or during the afternoon, between chores but before dinner. And sometimes I duck through spaces void of wire barbs, and consider how to fill the incomplete, which words, what materials could repair those particular holes. I […]

While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences — O at the Edges

What? I don’t get it. What’s sad about this poem and the fences in it? He cuts out a hole in one in his house so his dog can get through. He makes sure it can’t escape. Somehow this is sad? I don’t get it.

There is not more than one fence in said.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s