On Walls

A univocalic poem — only the vowel 'a'

for Christian Bök, who took seven years

A wall stands. A wall stands.

What man can last? What man can last?

A hand grasps bars — grasps and clasps,

all that was grand, all that was fast.

A land apart, far and vast,

marsh and sand, a harsh land's past.

Walls warp what was vast — what was?

Walls warp that grand dark tract, at last.

A bard chants (a mantra's art):

"walls can't halt what sparks can start."

A spark's flash: all dams crack and pass.

Walls fall. Man stands. Man stands apart.

···

The Constraint

This is a univocalic poem: every vowel in every word is 'a'. No e, i, o, u, or y.

The vocabulary collapses to Saxon monosyllables and Old English roots. "Imprisonment" is impossible — too many forbidden vowels. What remains: walls, bars, land, dark, harsh. Something primal, almost pre-linguistic.

The repetition isn't stylistic — it's necessity. When your palette shrinks to one color, rhythm becomes everything.

After Christian Bök, who wrote five chapters of Eunoia — each using only one vowel — and took seven years to finish. He said: "Poetry has to be reinvented if it is going to remain relevant."

The wall IS the vowel constraint. Breaking through IS the poem.

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