My Old Man Was a Carpenter: A Poet with a Handsaw

Poet with a Handsaw

My dad could look at a tree
And calculate its
Lumber in board feet

How large a home could he
Construct with
Its carcass?

This was as close as he
Would come
To waxing poetic

Carpenters see
Only what they saw


My Father Would Have been 100 This Summer

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