“The whine of a circular saw
flew around the house today
like the prehistoric mating call
of some zinc-voiced mutant insect.
It came cornering this way,
clean as a right angle
spewing a snowstorm of decisions
I just couldn’t put my finger on.
Powertool poetry
January 25th, 2002, 7:00 am · No Comments
Tags:
0 responses so far ↓
There are no comments yet...Kick things off by filling out the form below.
Leave a Comment