My wife’s mixed media sculptures are a lot like carpentry.

Once the fabric is cut and the wood is sawed and the clay

is molded and the rest is glued it is pretty well history.

My poetry is much like gardening — moving words, phrases,

line lengths, endings, beginnings, working the soil

of the poem’s bloom.

The pressure is on; she has to get it just right

and I just have to till the soil

sometimes at midnight

under a full moon.