Precision is a geometry poem, a reflection on shapes, time, formation, growth, decay, and the random or predetermined nature of life.

Precision – Geometry Poem

I now think lines need to be precise
 For if they’re not how could it be
 That the life in me
 Could draw shapes so concise 
 And leave me dangling like a raindrop on a tree.
 Geometry is not what I had in mind
 When I perceived the stars and the dirt
 And the flowers that fall behind
 To leave a perfect gap
 For the sun to shine. 
 
Perhaps the rotation of my breath is angled
 With precision for me                                                  
 To cast soft wool on wooden needles
 Now the thread’s untangled
 And with each stitch, I knit a kiss and pull                
 A thing ashore in straight time to tweedle                                                     
 Our song and draw rays from unexpected    
 Points of precision.