It's a lot of fun to weave meaning together in this poem through the short, nearly staccato lines. Self-examination as prescribed by Socrates via Plato, his literary agent. We seem to be thinking similar thoughts about syntax. The poem builds meaning as it goes. However, as words are ambiguous, and we are separated by years and even more miles I can only guess at your intent. I build castles in your words like children in the sand. "Scrabble Bingo" is a game that could be given rules and played and enjoyed by thousands. All that is required is the human capacity for story telling, which is synonymous with meaning making. You don't make sense. None of us do. Thanks. Peace.
hi Dehlia, this is an interesting poem. Almost like your delving into your own psyche. I look forward to reading more of your work as you post some. Feel free to read any one of mine.