Today I awoke and broke this stamp on day
I lit the barn stoking flame with yesterday pain
Drawing cowhides and my duck visor hat
Started out easy with a tap tap tap
Rolled out orange till lit yellow she came
This drawn out method undresses her flame
And slams into shape visions inside my head
Rolling out shape now alive from the dead
Steal arms, still able, hard legs, and top frame
One inch stamps under frame form my name
Flatbar, round stock, wrought iron, pig
I’ll shape into beautiful, tasteful, and something I dig
The sun and the flame lower their light in praise
Back of the barn, back to a black bed custom made
Steel hands, anvil, biceps from pounding through years
A big bad strong blacksmith pins back his ringing ears
Forearming the flood of sweat mixed with steely tears
Pulls from the living fire, hot tiny ballerina of taste
An exact duplicate, of his late wives graceful face
