Chisel and Stone

old chisels
mallet and scribe

lie on the work bench
where I left them

singing in tight rhythm
is their day job

at night they are dogs of proximity
publicans of ease

swapping tales of hammer beams
and great grandfather’s

cathedrals rising and headstones
farmed in long tight rows

of hearts of granite and fumed oak
waiting for flesh to be rendered into words

–Burl Whitman

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