-
stripping off bark,
carefully neat
unbroken
strings,
and then
into the bone
of the branch
bigger chips follow suit
as the carving
continues
the knife peels, chunking
out rough pieces as
they litter the floor
later to be swept aside
into darkness
years pass in solitary
cutting as cars
go slowly by
looking where the front porch
is buried at one end with
the chips of his wilderness
displaying no
ornaments
to show
for the labor
no birds
no raccoons
no whistles
not even his cane
pare of nothing
but the pile—
all he is...
s jones
2020
.
