my heart is clay
my heart is
clay
spilling in a thick river
out of the earth
not the harsh flicker
of gold
but the soft burnish
of knees
the liquid sheen
of lips
the muscle of
this heavy orb
swinging and twinkling
across heaven
clay
spilling in a thick river
out of the earth
not the harsh flicker
of gold
but the soft burnish
of knees
the liquid sheen
of lips
the muscle of
this heavy orb
swinging and twinkling
across heaven
posted by Yes at 10:58 AM
5 Comments:
hope you don't get tired of me telling you how much i love your poetry... the word images juxtaposed just so make me feel on fire sometimes.
I love clay.
I love clay, too, mb --I used to be a potter long ago (an addictive pursuit!)
snowsparkle, do people EVER get tired of those magic words? Maybe tired of saying them, but NEVER of hearing them!
firebird, i sometimes feel like i need to be as creative in my praise as you are in your poetry or it won't be worthy enough. so now that i know you appreciate praise in whatever form it takes, i'll allow myself to just say the first thing that comes to mind... which is often: "wow!" or "love it!".
I used to work in clay, too. Some day maybe I'll get back to it.
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