upon the figurehood in sculpture
who, patient, commands attention
with his unthinking gaze
although his shape, as man as my own no
change for him, nor chance by stone-
(he is a stoic friend)
alas, his only origins chisel
towards my truth–I know I am wrought
by carving circumstance
from what must have been drier quarries
and deeper veins of dyed white / red
(yet stilled in drafty halls)
oh, ye monuments of older earth,
one’s still assured in timeless pose?
a choice, or by design?

— You can find Will on Twitter.

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