Cutting Glass Poem by Jared Carter
Cutting Glass
It takes a long, smooth stroke practiced carefully
over many years and made with one steady motion.
You do not really cut glass, you score its length
with a sharp, revolving wheel at the end of a tool
not much bigger than a pen-knife. Glass is liquid,
sleeping. The line you make goes through the sheet
like a wave through water, or a voice calling in a dream,
but calling only once. If the glazier knows how to work
without hesitation, glass begins to remember. Watch now
how he draws the line and taps the edge: the pieces
break apart like a book opened to a favorite passage.
Each time, what he finds is something already there.
In its waking state glass was fire once, and brightness.
All that becomes clear when you hold up the new pane.
First published in Yarrow.
All that becomes clear..... congrats on being chosen.... a big 10+++++
a poem full of good advice but only if you don't want a broken pain? ..............well written.
The details of glass cutting in the poem and prose comment are fascinating in themselves. But what I really liked about this poem was the resonance of your metaphors. Glass is identifies as both LIGHT and FIRE, both of which stunned with their aptness. But the description of glass as LIQUID, SLEEPING floored me. And also the completion of the task of making two glass panels becomes A BOOK OPENING TO JUST THE RIGHT PAGE. I consider metaphor to be a higher form of cognition because instead of separating things into discrete identities, it shows how thinking and language can makes seemingly hard reality SHAPE SHIFT. CATEGORIES place things in fenced in spaces, and the metaphor shows how porous, malleable, p-l-a-s-t-i-c (in its old meaning) things truly are. I respect the knowledge of the trade you gave me; I am exhilarated by the MAGIC you revealed in your poerm of METAMORPHOSES
jared, i'm glad yours is the poem of the day, glad to be introduced to you. this piece is excellent- well-crafted in word choice, shape, and logic; and i like how the inanimate is made less so in how you characterize glass as in Glass is liquid, sleeping. In its waking state glass was fire once, and brightness. and i like the pieces break apart like a book opened to a favorite passage. you honor the craftsman and the material he works with. i look forward to reading more of your work. glen kappy
At first i thought you were making cut glass crystal...fooled me..thank you for sharing..
Thanks for taking up the subject of glass or cutting glass for this poem. I have seen the process through which the glass is melt in fire and then poured into molds and blown with air to get the desired results. I greatly admire the skills of your father and how you have utilised it in your poem. Thanks a lot.
a poem full of good advice but only if you don't want a broken pain? ..............well written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 4:47:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Practiced carefully. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.