“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” the poet writes. A post I wrote was spiked. I didn’t spike it. Adam Gurri  didn’t spike it. Not even my wife’s fears spiked it. It was wisdom who spiked it, clear and simple. It was wisdom.

The post was only apple trees when you are most likely pines, only as harmful as words on a page can be. It’s not as though the words can do you any harm. “Good fences make good neighbors,” wisdom says, again and again.

But why do they make good neighbors? The wall was here before I was here, and before you were, but now the wall is being taken down, actively taken down, to make great gaps within it so that two can walk abreast. Who did that? Who made the gaps in the walls?

Was it the hunter?

It was and it was not. I’ll tell you: I had a good idea, but the latest time series graphs showed that it was a bad idea, and not a mistaken idea (it was surely not mistaken) to make it bad, but frowned upon to make it bad. The time series graphs say, without shadow, that walls themselves are bad. I said no. No, the wall is good, I said.

Wisdom said, thou shalt not post what thou hast written. Thou shalt surely not.

Only wisdom says no nowadays, and who listens to wisdom?

So I wrote a code. The code is for everyone whose wall has gaps. First, the code is a signal that I am here, and you are there. You should stay there, and I should stay here. Do you read me? Second, the code is the first try to undo what the hunter has done, what the frost has done, and what the elves have done.

It is mean work, cruel work, to make a wall, but we are ashamed of being neighbors now. We must all be in communion, and that is never never never good. Never. That is why we are ashamed that there is no more shame. There is no more shame! Even Roger Waters knows that if he were a better man, he’d understand the spaces between friends. A better man: ha! Imagine that!

Remember: the wall is not made for thee; the wall is made for me.