In 1963, a 16-year-old mailed a survey to 150 novelists, asking if they intentionally planted symbolism in their work. Here’s what they had to say.
Poem I wrote at 3 am in my iPhone’s notepad in 20 minutes….. Enjoy
My mind is blank,
Scrambled misunderstandings of understandings—-
Plaguing my existence
Slipping deeper and deeper into quicksand,
Encompassing my being, clogging my throat, strangling my breathe
Grains scattered amongst crevices of memories
Suppressed yet present,
Truth is the enemy, the irony.
The companion, the downfall—-
Harvest carcass, dead inside
yet saunter the earth, grasping for air
to understand, what’s always understood.
Carnaged internal debate of future daily battles,
Bronze—-Quick sand, gold.
Enemy and catalyst the hero,
Dichotomy, weakened self,
Quick sand, pull me under.