The winter’s risen sun blazes from a wall-less hole of an unfinished house in the street-corner.The laborer’s wall-less house on the road is not a house but a mere thought word.
But a house exists without walls but with a roof .Only it has to rise from the earth, to the sky.The igloo rises without apparent walls but warm and white, on the icy wastes.
Houses exist without roof but with built walls but there is the sky-roof that sends down rains like the God of phallus lives without roof in order that the sky’s rains falls on Him always.
Like houses that exist without walls poetry is built without words but with felt words. A girl of large eyes is floating away toward the sun ,as ponytail and bag compete for space on her back.
Those were my felt words on her schoolgirl back.