A sculptor’s credo


My speech is sculpture

Reflecting struggles with myself ... it is complex

Who can say such complexity is good

When the simple

            is beloved by all?

Attaining simplicity is complex

            So I struggle

It is my life I so live

Fussing with my pipe

            This January afternoon


I live my ideal as I can

So doing I must ask

Is it good to aspire

To be grass

            Red oak

Flaming maple

Or Douglas fir

A shining moment in the air?


The stream sings its

            Rushing passage fast

Then slow at last in

            Ocean’s heaving seas.

Believing less in answers

I handle many tools

In fields deep with choice


Winnowed through time

            Through repetition

Many paths through the bush

Meet ,converge, and move towards one


            The same directions

Edited by experience

It is too much to ask

            Of words that they

Assemble themselves into meaning.


We make our meaning

            In every act and stroke

In what we hold close

            And keep away

Too much for me to know

            Like moss or mountain asphodel

The forest trillium

Persevering trusting hoping

Singing speaking shaping