Hear the author read this poem (in RealAudio)
Battling cascading
steam, my ancient
neighbor would face
his fogged mirror,
cutthroat razor
mowing down, up,
piratical blade
making every
stroke a page torn
from a life story
told the hard way,
because "Someone,
by God, has to keep
the old skills alive."
This article available online at:
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2004/10/progress/303511/
