The lump of clay with which you start<\/p>\n
seems no mystery; after all, it is little more than mud.<\/p>\n
No more, in fact, than the mud you scraped up as a child<\/p>\n
from the damp earth beneath your grandmother\u2019s apple tree<\/p>\n
to make tiny dishes and fancy sculpted figures<\/p>\n
which you never named, except maybe<\/p>\n
freer from leaves and seeds and twigs.<\/p>\n
The lump of clay with which you start<\/p>\n
seems no mystery, but even dirt can fool you.<\/p>\n
And you know this.\u00a0 So even though you\u2019ve wedged it<\/p>\n
long enough to make your forearms ache<\/p>\n
and Methuselah sigh, you will wedge it just a little bit<\/p>\n
longer.\u00a0 Because you know.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
What you don\u2019t know, ever, is whether<\/p>\n
there really is potential in the bump<\/p>\n
you\u2019ve smacked onto the wheel, coaxing it to center<\/p>\n
with the heel of your hand and a sponge full of water<\/p>\n
in those first few spins, when you\u2019re just remembering<\/p>\n
the music of the turning, the cool fine feel<\/p>\n
of the top-heart as you press your thumb down<\/p>\n
to concave, navel, hollow,<\/p>\n
always with the bath to keep<\/p>\n
friction from tearing down your walls.<\/p>\n
You can hope there is a vase in every throw,<\/p>\n
that every pound of clay you slice off the end<\/p>\n
of the pugged line can<\/i>, at least,<\/p>\n
be a beautiful pot or plate or bowl, but<\/p>\n
what if that isn\u2019t the case?<\/p>\n
What if the likely isn\u2019t in the clay?<\/p>\n
What if some lumps are only ever going to be lumps?<\/p>\n
What if there is no beautiful and tall cylinder in<\/p>\n
this particular pound; no lamp or candle-shade,<\/p>\n
no flower-pond basin, no vessel at all<\/p>\n
to hold your lovely: \u00a0after all,<\/p>\n
it is only clay, and it may be no mystery,<\/p>\n
but it can fool you.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
***<\/strong><\/p>\n This poem<\/strong> <\/em>is the\u00a021st in my marathon of poems (plus 3.8) for Tupelo Press\u2019s <\/a>cool fundraising project 30\/30.\u00a0 You can view the poems I and the other \u201crunners\u201d submit every day during the month of March, at<\/p>\n http:\/\/tupelopress.wordpress.com\/3030-project\/<\/a>.<\/p>\n Please follow our work, and if you find it even the slightest bit entertaining, engaging, thought-provoking, or just generally worthy, donate to Tupelo Press, an independent literary publisher.\u00a0 Sponsor me<\/strong> by entering T. Thibodeaux Baar<\/strong> <\/em>in the \u201cin honor of\u201d line on the donation form, which you can find here:<\/p>\n https:\/\/www.tupelopress.org\/donate.php<\/a><\/p>\n (Scroll down; it\u2019s a form!)<\/p>\n Thanks for stopping by!\u00a0 I am happy to hear from you via email or comments.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The lump of clay with which you start seems no mystery; after all, it is little more than mud. No more, in fact, than the mud you scraped up as a child from the damp earth beneath your grandmother\u2019s apple … Continue reading