Pulp Poem of the Week

Whenever the gray fog lifts for a second,

there they are:

the wall,

the tower.

They scare you stiff,

they make you mad,

but there's less than nothing

you can do about them;

and when you can't stand it any more

and the fear and rage get you moving,

get you started doing something,

there they are again, waiting for you:

the prison,

the nuthouse,

the lead box for your bones.

Ryu Murakami

Coin Locker Babies

1980

(trans. Stephen Snyder)