Friday, March 25, 2011


snow recedes, mounds becoming mole hills, everything that can bathes in the lengthened days, more frequent sunlight, graceful necks of ballerinas pierce last autumn's blanket, pillbugs frolic as the mat is puled away.

My thoughts are divided. I have a piece to make,
but so many steps left.

not steps

entire journeys

starting all over, scrub plane in hand, make this board flat

sharpen the jack, sharpen the fore 

get it close

that tiny thin line of perfection slivers away at the edge

the ruler no longer spins

no light along the board

it is true

now it is whole but will become many

it scares me

and I love this

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