Thursday, April 28, 2011

Think of Anything Less Honest than Writing Poetry

My father worked with two-by-fours,
Two-by-eights and measuring tape.

Myself, I work with eight-by-eights,
Five-by-fives, sevens-by-sevens,
My own and others' inventions.

My calloused father once took note
Of my soft hands. Had they not done
Honest work? Hands, yes. Mind, never.

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