poems as hand- and foot-holds on a glass mountain

Making It Up

He worked a text like stone from the fields

great slabs thrown up in the night

giant melons concealing faces like those on Easter Island

hammer and chisel, a controlled fury

unusual in fourteen-year-olds

young Dash Hammett made it happen by letting it happen

“Deliberate deception has other less respectable names,”

he later said of his stories, or might have said

or might have been reported to have said

at a loud party with competitive drinking,

but in the making, chips and dust flying

the pock-marked surface slowly yielding its secrets

he said little while wild-saying happened around him

the way worlds are made in centuries of silence

5 Responses to “Making It Up”

  1. burlwhitman


    May I include your poem in my next book I’m working on?




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