When you think of a corner is it inside or outside (could you place something in it or be poked by it)? 

you probably got here from the list of pits which might sway you toward the former,
I took this class “Critique of Everyday Life” with Madeline Lane, where we were asked to write an ode to something in our everyday mine was on corners (mainly because I wanted to write about erosion)

I look around
at things I’ve had,
looking    for signs     of life
I see a scratch
a mark.
I did this, with a corner

a corner,
a focal point of force

the wood chair I sit on,
it has character.
lines litter the armrest
little valleys of their own,
dug away,
more corners are made.
what was once a flat plane
this
de marcation of surfaces
乀makes the laminate feel built up.

faces come closer
and closer—meeting.
a sharp corner hurts.
as the mass of the area
dwindles and dwindles,
corners
the peaks of planes
become brittle

I feel for the corners around me
they’re everywhere
grasping a corner, it’s round
the object,
worn.
chipped dirtied handled rubbed
the oils from my hands,
they wear corners

when does a corner stop?
corners are understood, a corner
is rarely “this”, a corner is “that”
the deliniation of space within an object.
a location that exists
in the context of what isn’t