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.