Film and Television Rights: Fences

Brin owns an ink pen that writes in four colors: red,
black, blue and green. He tore a page from his notebook
and left it on the couch. Printed in red, it read:

White wooden fences with fresh paint,
look like a wall. Strong, bold, they enclose.

Tall rough wood ones, tan or dark brown,
look soft, but are sturdy. Simply

separate, don’t enclose or push
out, but divide. Stone walls are as

if the house and town were built well
afterwards, as ordained by the rocks. 

Stones care nothing for town, or house.
Brick walls are a house that wants

to be a road. Confused, longing.
Leftover bricks wandered from the house,

but didn’t venture into the street.
They do nothing but brood. Chicken

wire keeps in animals. It teases,
made mostly of air, but works,

sweats as much as anything. Chain
links don't enclose at all. They push

out—keep out. The town and road puts
chain link up to keep far away

from the house. House not safe from town.
Town safe from house.

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jefferson angels

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April - National Poetry Month 2008

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April - National Poetry Month 2005
April - National Poetry Month 2007
April - National Poetry Month 2008
April - National Poetry Month 2009
February Smackdown!
Here, I'm trying to be Funny
My personal favorites
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Random Memoir Fragment

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Albums. Landlines. Square television.
I don't love anything, not even Christmas
My favorite place in the world
How do you Plea?