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Vases Made of Mud


Vases made of mud must pass
Quickly through the looking-glass;
They are bouncing with the strain.
The white pitcher groans again
In a rhythm dark and deep
Of a work that will not keep
Till your dallying is done.
See, bright smears of morning sun
Lie heavy on the table!
Sing of them, if you’re able,
Though your tongue may clang like brass—
Do not let this moment pass!

 
  
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
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 photo bluepitcherYPC_zps477862fc.jpg
Yuma Pioneer Cemetery, Yuma, Arizona
 


close to the tombstone
blue pitcher filled with flowers—
someone remembers

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
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