These are the things you made
when you were young:
black-flecked vases, fanciful twirls on plates
colored like Chaco Canyon
when you were there
with friends, in an encompassing light;
clay vessels with a line and heft
that taught the eye and the hand
when you were the work
with life masks, small sculptures, symbols.
When you closed your eyes,
danced, sought nothing,
the drawings that you cast off
as not what you meant
made sense to me.
~~~~~~~~~~
Douglas Logan
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