You can cut a man’s throat
and he’ll feel it for
the rest of his life and
you can stab him and
he’ll bleed until he stops
and he’ll never forget it

You can cut a mans’ soul
and he may never know
it and those cuts are
deeper than anything and
maybe he doesn’t bleed
or die but maybe he does

Maybe he’s never the same
again.

And while one cuts with one’s
knife and one does one’s
work so perfectly, another
makes the mark with song or
sonnet and maybe he slips
a time or two, and maybe that
is half the point somehow

That a man can break and
stand on both feet is
astounding

That a man can endure
and never move again:
double that,
and easily.