2000/potter
I wish I were a potter,
the turning wheel,
my clay-dried hands,
the rhythm so easy
to enter through the flesh.
The only mantra you need
the clump of earth
in your hands.
1/4/00
2000/potter
I wish I were a potter,
the turning wheel,
my clay-dried hands,
the rhythm so easy
to enter through the flesh.
The only mantra you need
the clump of earth
in your hands.
1/4/00