finer than a razor’s edge.
faint line,
starved steeple
heavenly aspirations
a Giocometti
shaved down
to thinnest
vertical being
the breeze
of your interest
stirred up the grit
of my flaws
they battled,
repelled,
attracted,
a trail
of soot in their wake
gathered.
the particles
clung for survival
to our invisible separation
the line,
became a sculpture
a poem
xxx
pepe nero