
No poem as useful as a brick
but,
Layered together,
End to end,
line by line,
A layer, a row,
a wall,
We might just make something
worth dwelling in.
Wolf Stahl was born on a farm and never recovered.
No poem as useful as a brick
but,
Layered together,
End to end,
line by line,
A layer, a row,
a wall,
We might just make something
worth dwelling in.
Wolf Stahl was born on a farm and never recovered.