Sculptor

Chisel the marble of my being
Michelangelo - the little ones
splashing in the little floods
remember nothing of Noah
though the rain does
and its currents runnel down
the chinks in my stone
until they've found, (as do we all)
puddles to call home
and the great sculptor has
painted my limestone bones:
Adam reaching out
feebly across me, lying
on Mary's knee, weeping,
and both the Pieta and the sky
share the same grief
it's grey, and love - a call to arms



One of the methods in which I've been writing lately is a pealing away of layers. Often, I've used this method, collecting all the possible pieces of research and possibilities, and chiseling away the unnecessary portions to draw out the figure from the marble. Michelangelo saw his forms in the marble before he started, he would say, and all he had to do was remove the extraneous portions. Lately, I've enjoyed writing using a somewhat similar method.
Another method I've enjoyed is building pieces up in layers, like a wasp building its nest with saliva and pulp. (gross? maybe not my best analogy). I write a very basic outline, and start "dressing" it, adding flavor and apparel to flesh out the piece into a fullness. This is usually a bit easier, because then you can always end with the sculpting away once you've finished. Most pieces require a bit of both, but lately I have been fancying myself as a bit of a sculptor, transforming existing objects, scenes, places, and people into stories: the material is already there, I just need to carve out the stories from the distracting stone.
These last couple of days, all my writing has been a bit wobbly, so trying out new things is a nice way to break free of stagnation and disgust.