July 2, 2012


Inch by
Inch and swing
By swing the hammer
Beats the chisel. The rock, veined
Like cheese but hard like cold you cannot
ignore. The rock yields: A face
and arms
And a longing glance
the artist thinks He frees from
its prison. He falls in love
with his
Creation, only
Ignorant that
He exists
Only because she
Created him.