||The Quiet Carver
No matter what this statue or your
When you have finished with your numbers, black and white,
And I with my blue carving in the amber light,
With dusting webs of wonder from the entrants' eyes
And reassuring others of the painlessness of night,
With simple rhymes and childhood phrases long forgotten
With verses to dispel this darkness and quell their cries--
Then we will have surmounted prose's power,
You with your digits, I with my hammer.
We will have spanned and set this ill-begotten
Universe in order, frozen all its constellations in the
And we will hand in hand retire
To our silent, unhewn memories of fire,
To our well-deserved and unending rest.