Fire the Torch
I want to learn to weld,
To make dead objects sing
By virtue of the fact
I have seen fit to knit them
–Fat bead of bleeding metal
Though frozen, seeming to pulse–
Together.
(for Chris, who was the first person, in all five years of my doing this blogging thing, to ever drop a line in my e-mail saying that he comes here first and foremost for the poetry. the rest of you will just have to suck it up when I go careening wildly off the path, slapping more poems together for him. crybabies.)







14 worked it out »