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.