Dust, that thick perfume of
pine and fiberboard which clogs
my pores, fills my nostrils and
mixes into a paste with my sweat,
now circulates the room at roughly
one hundred thousand parts per million.
Four A.M. is no time for power tools.
7.08.2008
Late Nights
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2 comments:
i love it!
it gives the same feeling that a haiku does.
and you're right. 4am really isn't the best power tool time.
I confess, I haven't read all of your poetry. I also confess that I haven't done a whole lot of power tool work. But this is wonderful; it really does bring back the old high school feeling of late night construction. And even makes me miss it. Well done.
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