Untitled #1

[RiverNotch]

A title would help. This piece doesn't not-need it, I'm sure.

The words are there to envelop me, I don't see any semantic issues with using "envelop", but I'm sure there's a better word out there.
a wall against the otherness The Other without old nessie would be denser (ie, better).
that leaves me owing explanation; Syntactic ambiguity: who leaves you owing explanation, the word-wall or the Other? And since the opposition between the two is meant to be taken as is, the ambiguity ends up being annoying, rather than valuable.
marking me for stares, Again, ambiguity: who marks? And whether you keep it or not, the semicolon should be a comma.
names, entitled questions, fear.

The smooth pages offer me my escape, 
hiding behind the poppies of Mary Oliver, Who hides, the pages or you? The speaker doesn't seem wry enough to conflate true escape with hiding, the last stanza is so *serious*.
the rantings of Bukowski,
the longing and ardor of Neruda. 
Their passion my salvation, my shield. I would go colon on Neruda, instead of period, but that may just be a personal stylistic note. Another personal stylistic note: I would have chosen other poets . But not personal: unless you mean this poem to be as complex a theological treatise as the New Testament, I would rather you removed "my shield", "their passion my salvation" alone is strong enough.

One day I will rebuff the shifty stares,
the too personal queries, violations of space.
But, for today, I smile politely, Remove "for".
and wait patiently to retreat again Remove "and".
into the lines and rhythm of the words. Maybe "rhythms"?

The first two stanzas do set up the third stanza quite well in terms of meat, quite awkwardly in terms of mode: that is to say, your sentences then were not well-constructed, there were so many prickly ambiguities. But the third stanza is fair enough, so I suppose the piece is fair enough -- that said, I do find a complete and completely self-serious fear of the Other to be a somewhat immature theme to dwell on, at best. Complete isolation is no triumph, unless you rudely consider us commentators here as inhuman.