when i was young i wanted to carve you.
not your flesh, unless you made me.
i needed to carve off of you to live.
as i got older i got better.
trimming was easy.
just don't dig too deep.
i carved a place to make due.
the triiming fed my family.
it seems to be a very animal instict.
pulling the last gristle off the bone.
it was once just acedemic.
now it seems what we have left.
this odd light is filtered by some age.
perhaps it wasn't leather, wood, or even words,
my carving is just time alone.
let me just carve out a little bit.