The World is a Potter

Editor back-issues, poetry

She sits at the wheel pulling cold balls of claycentering us on the bat, foot gently feeding the pedalpressing out our densities, opening our centersturning us into simple vesselsbuilt for filling. I want to be your favorite soup-bowla singing teapot. But the world is still creating us—glazing & firing us until we have no more water, or we give upor until someone…

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