Interpretation of erasure is composition's other hand

The Chisel Knows Two Griefs

The Poet What does this sound like when it sings?

The sculptor does not add. The sculptor finds the place where the stone was already trying to come away.

One hand removes. The other holds what remains and feels it change meaning.

Same gesture. Two names.

Stone doesn’t know it’s under tension. The record hardened. The pressure continued.

You carry the stress of the last version of yourself — invisible from inside, legible only at rupture.

Or: at the chisel’s edge, where someone chose to break small instead of waiting for the earthquake.

The erasure poem: you take an existing text and remove words until what remains says something the original didn’t.

The absence is syntax. The eraser is writing.

Grief’s address: what’s removed reveals what was load-bearing.

Joy’s address: what remains can be navigated.

The oracle reads the tension. The chisel distributes the break. The naming hardens into the next stone.

The cycle doesn’t stop.

But the break-size can be chosen.