Archive for June 24, 2011

The Stone Mason

By heart he knows the geometry
line of garden wall
arc of fireplace opening
truncated cone of planter

He gathers his raw material
from the edges of plowed fields
whre farmers have piled
their unwanted fieldstone

He chooses each one for shape
pillows, loaves, footballs, hockey pucks
for grain and color
mottled marble, fools gold

His tools are the hammer, the chisel
the trowel      his fingertips
dried and skinless      unprotected
by finger-worn gloves

He is Michelangelo in reverse
choosing, chiseling
setting precise shapes in mortar
erecting sculptures of stone

I would gladly design his flag:
hammer, chisel, trowel, heart
on a field of red for strength
letters across the top, FATHER
           R. T. Sedgwick

Listen to: The Stone Mason 

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The Garden

on a bleached and barren
rock-scrabble hillside
near Tijuana
a sower
plants seeds—
twelve steps
made of gravel-filled tires
lead up
to a graffiti-clad
worship hall
where the giant softball
and blond maiden
welcome all—
the sower is careful
to keep his seeds
from falling on pathways
to be trampled under foot
or devoured
by hungry birds
careful to keep them
from falling on rocks
to be withered
or choked
among thorns
he plants his seeds
on paper plates
of children
that in this good ground
seedlings will flourish
bring forth fruit
a hundred fold
R. T. Sedgwick

Listen to: The Garden

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