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
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5 Responses to “Making It Up”
This is a mighty, manly and brilliant poem. Sculptural and true.
Thanks B! Written for you.
Then I am honored and floored.
Don,
May I include your poem in my next book I’m working on?
Craig
>
Sure.