my well watered mind

shifts to sculpting granite stanzas

perhaps about the towering pines as a boy I climbed.

sentinels that still stand against standardized tests of time

I etch commandments on wooden tablets

that are burned and smashed

like nodding off addicts

that crash and die tragic.

I pick up their pieces and sand their edges smooth

then attempt to move immobile mountains

with cadence and their fleeted youth

a daunting incurable affliction

that when delivered with precision I may finally call it diction

now yet again fitting words are so near impossible to choose

so i chip away at blocks of rock until there’s nothing left to lose.