Glass Poetry
Heated orange hotGlass molting spotPole presses down Pulls outLiquid on stemConstant turningA little blowingThen into the fire againOut of the heat Saturated wood steamsShapes forming Spinning, dizzying Back to the fireTo gather glass fibersTo spin to warm, to shapeThen reheat the mistakesBreathe in once againTo make the glass thinTo dab on a colorThat permeates the structureThen cooled It setsIt is like us, let us …