Tagged: craft

for every tool, there

for every tool, there
is an author, crafting a
statement of work to

emphasize desired performance,
a memory for our hands

old man winter expertly

old man winter expertly
embroiders entire
cities, gliding
through their
fabrics without
a hitch, as if he
were always
waiting, a pack
of needles in tow,
sharp points,
wide eyes

in primary school

in primary school
we learned to cut around the
heart – nine times out of

ten, to find it correctly
required repeated folding

clearing the first row

clearing the first row
across your corn on
the cob has a casting-
on quality – everything
relies on those first
stitches, how cleanly
you hook the kernels,
dig in between. it’s
quite a breeze after
that, not overlooking
a pinch of patience

in everything done

in everything done
well, there is a certain
level of performance
involved – creativity
takes wing, and for
a moment, we may
be allowed to bask
in the slipstream

longing is a loose

longing is a loose
thread – so much
and not enough
tugging yields
an absolute
emptiness, a piece
of ourselves
that has lost
its shape

it takes six tweezers, three

it takes six tweezers, three
screwdrivers, two bottles of
glue, one good wire snip,
a spool of longing, a bouquet
of drill bits, needles, and pins,
an anchor of kisses, and twelve
years to carve this wonder, hold
taut confusion, wrap joy
close, fold breathlessness
for two beats
before raising the masts
of those early days
waking up new
and near,
unfurling the sails of
an eternal spring
in a bottle
for the long journeys away
from you, my home

happiness is a

someone has yet to

someone has yet to
count the number of
bakeries in the
city – where every
window is a lens
into craftsmanship,
every grain of
flour, a seed to
a symphony

it is so seventeenth

it is so seventeenth
century the way we still
shuttle memories back
and forth by hand so that
we have reason
to touch.

i let you hold
down the strongest
memories, stretched
tautly by time, while
i maintain the fill, following
each spun horizon.

the longer we do this,
the richer our threads.
the longer we do this,
the finer our patterns
the longer we do this,
the more alive our beloved