Sunday, 2. July 2006
Sharpener's Blues
The knife sharpener in the plaza
With his abrasive discs of fire
Grinds the steel you offer
Down to its sinews.
The sparks are the spectacle You pay for, along with edged Knives that cleave clean through Anything that you want slice
Potatoes, chicken bones, bread Of wheat, of time, of memory. Outside the window, sun glares At these unchanging blues.
My Poems
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