It’s hard to follow the narrative
When everyone talks at once
Counting the uprights of the wooden fence
Every slat talking at once
Slat, slat, we’re all slats in a wooden fence
Talking at once
Talking to a policeman
Talking to a doctor
Talking to God’s replacements
– The system produced gods
As they trample the ground
And test the wooden fence for defects
A hewn wooden parade of slats with pointed heads
In winter and in spring they stand together
As their owners sit in their gardens
as they capture live ones and turn them into new wooden fences
It is hard to follow the narrative
Of our wooden mouths, all talking at once
The disharmonic chatter
On many levels of the mind scale
We are the wooden fences of society
We are the human barriers for the echelons
A cherub lands in the garden
He listens to the narrative of the talking fence
He has the four faces of the spiritual
He is looking North and South, East and West
He is gone back to where he came from
Back to join the protective force in the sky
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