Friday, June 05, 2009


Sawing wood in the dark,
my arm swings to a tribal rhythm.
The rasp of the blade is a hypnotic chant and
the headtorch brushes shadows back and forth as
I sway to the ebb and flow of force.

Incense of sap and sawdust rises
to mingle with the pillars of my breath.

Behind me, the moon is a thin, wry smile.
Two planets shine like silver dimples
on her cheeks.

(c) A McN

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Blogger Susannah said...

Thanks for capturing a moment and sharing it so elequently - wonderful.

12:11 AM  
Blogger S. said...


5:37 AM  

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