Cold Feet
December 18, 1995
So I’ve spent months cleaning
to the foundations, investigating
each fissure of my well.
What will it matter
when I put all this aside
and follow my old path?
The Wood Curls Slowly in Arabesques
December 19, 1995
Sliding the chisel along the grain,
the wood takes shape before me
I watch the shavings curl,
then fall away. Here is where
I am, not with the finished
bowl upon the shelf.
(from “My Book of Changes” 1994-1995)
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