written in 1998 at age 10
I love working with clay,
I feel like I could work with it all day,
The feeling of clay between your hands,
who ever felt clay understands.
I love getting dirty. I love getting wet,
I feel like I could be in the Telegram and Gazette!
I love throwing, sculpting and pinch-potting.
I think how other people are watching
T.V., with their brains rotting.
I love wiping your hands on an old shirt,
and if a pot breaks,
it’s just water and dirt.
Poem posted here by kind permission of the poet.
Special thanks to Cary Joseph. All rights reserved.
I sent him from home hardly more than a child. Years later, he came back…
So many colors abandon the earth, and go skyward to the trees like origami birds,…
may there be a listening rather than a making curiosity over expectation, lightness and ease,…
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