Sawdust Psalm
on building, coughing, and coming apart
Have I mentioned my passion for building things? There’s art in creating sawdust.
Ears ring saw blades spin 2x4s drop sawdust in the nostrils my throat my teeth in everything I didn’t mean to breathe brad nailer snaps wrist folds forearm locks steel-tight but I keep moving board after board on and off sawhorses measuring twice but words still fly little gaps little errors nothing aligns what I saw in the mind isn’t here but I’m too far in to care paint fumes chemical lullaby staining my thoughts and the walls while I’m coughing like mad lungs sanded raw dust storm in the shed frame sweat in my eyes fluid grit glued to my skin moving everything out then all back in keep / toss / burn later shirt sticks too many pieces not enough space still the lean-to stands while I’ve come quite undone smelling like pine sap and burnt by the sun






Yay! A nice metaphor for the work we do.
hats off to your writing and construction project!