He works with weathered
hand, spins a mandala
to fashion wet clay into a vase, a teacup,
a mountain molded by the pure artistic matter
of sinew and muscle and manifest mind.
His work is miniscule yet vauntingly vast,
glazed with caramel coats of conscience
pondering the reality of the true maker of
memes.
He wears jeans or robes or nothing at all
if it suits his craft to remove what
clouds the eye.
He is a xylophone of beneficent bones
or the inspiration of Promethean fire.
He is the claims adjuster who sets things
right
with a bit of leather strap or a length of
copper wire.
~William Hammett
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