Rhythm
Purring like a
cat, the heat pipes
gurgle on-and-off
rhythm, a
breathing rhythm
overhead
rumbling like a
living pet
and music's on in
the studio
while clay
shavings peel away beneath
my trimming tool
like
skin off an apple,
and
the bottom of a
cereal bowl
is shaped and
smoothed.
Phone rings and I
don't answer.
Rather hear the
purring
of the pipes, my
potter's wheel turning,
these blues
thumping and wailing
than break it with
nowhere chatter.
I love this dusty
vault
this cluttered
order
these spinning
bowls one then
another.
Conversations
between the
senses.
(copyright Mimi Stadler 2012)
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