Being Understood
by Shawn Misener
He never understood
when they insisted that people weren’t blue
minds weren’t centered in the navel
souls weren’t commodities
and beavers weren’t his friends
he never saw it coming
when the walls breathed
the floor became soft
and the ceiling grew clouds
he tried surfing on pavement
driving on Lake Michigan
and taking up wings underground
he learned how to say
“you’ll never understand”
in forty-seven languages
it was all useful and useless
continuing on in such a way
but for him he could only see the world
through his own eyes
and that suited him just fine
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July 9, 2011 at 2:51 pm |
Wow. I’d say this poem was strange, but strange to say–it’s not. I understand it, a little. But only a little, because, of course, I’ll never fully understand.
Does this comment make sense?