I built a fence I built a fence out of wood I built a fence out of fence parts I built a fence out of orange peels I built a fence out of satellite dishes and yellow paint I built a fence out of skulls I built a fence out of my love for you people said it looked like it would stand forever and I wasn’t going to tell them otherwise I built a fence out of daffodils and enchiladas and devotion to something larger than myself that I knew I could not grasp I built a fence out of coupons and statues of the Virgin Mary and maps of 16th century Holland I built a fence out of my friends and called it The Capital of My Heart I built a fence out of pornography and covered it in a black sheet which made everyone look and gasp and get very excited I built a fence lying on my back in the dark I built a fence with my tax return and it was the smallest fence anyone had ever seen I built a fence out of paintings that museums buy but don’t hang in galleries because of intellectual censorship I built a fence out of old cell phones and baby teeth I built a fence out of bullet casings and concrete I built a fence out of seagulls and key chains and teacups that have never been used I built a fence out of my powerlessness in the face of the absolute and had enough tears to build fences everyday for the rest of my life I built a fence out of blackened tofu and kale I built a fence out of pieces of fire and dull knives I built a fence out of my past and my pants I built a fence out of bacon and lack of compassion and called it the Republican Party I built a fence out of what was left after the war nothing was left after the war but time to build fences I built a fence out of all the ties that belong to the President of the United States of America I built a fence out of what was left in the apartment after you left me and laid in the vacancy of my bed and could smell pancakes the neighbors were making pancakes I built a fence out of red birds and ice and gravestones and ice machines and gravestone machines I built a fence