Sunday, August 14, 2011


What happens when the edge dulls?
That knife can't cut the bread
sometimes is slips off the skin of the potato
skittering into the skin
And sight
the edge of the eyes dull, wearing at the mind
as the fuzzy encroachment greys the colors
aging of which no sharpener can carve away the damage
and the heart
does it lose its edge
what happened to that fluttering in there
as the butterflies die?
Old hat love,
the sliding scale of passion
what does Hef really feel?
It's a rule
All sharp edges by nature become less so.
Maybe diamonds last, but can they shape their own lives
to time?