Workshop Lines
These words are also chiselled
but it is still an easier art
than his hammer and tilt
His eye is in the oak’s own grain
at cuts and gouges to open –
as my vowel sounds now close
This floor is a drift of cuttings –
those slimmed timber edits
out of which his art unfolds
My on-screen deletions
do not pile high in corners
but are only known to me