POEM: roofing

BY ROGER PAO

Not a burgundy nightingale: the roofer stands atop Austin Hall: snow sheds its gravitational beauty in a gustof wind: what a fine cemetery-gray morning!: you can hear law students whisper about the edges of their gymnasiumlike no yesterdaycould sustain their tomorrows:

all in their minds: your professors like to chant: all weighingin their minds:you march up the winding asphalt hill towards Austin:a carriage: a windmill: a stadium:in foreign contracts lay the sources of un-oxygenated stones: stone upon

stone: until you wall inside portraitures of 19th century men: a lowly famed artist had a hand in making our men: witness the travels of students long enough and you will comprehend that the Socratic method

survives on arousal from fear: the method’s vulnerable power can suffer from manslaughter: I wonder what the roofer thinks of me now: if he sees me from afar:

if he senses my presence fromhis sienna-tiled perch: he seems bent over: wobbling in the wind: tool-belt heavy: without

a harness: about to fall through thewinter sunbeams: many of us are risky nowadays: it is what

we like to call free will: against doctrine.

by roger pao

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