The Center
The wheel turns and spins
The hands caress the unformed mass
Quietly, skillfully they mold it into the center
There it lies poised at the very acme of creation
The very beginning of its possibilities
And yet if it were to rise and take form
Its pattern would be set
But now, at the center
It lies poised in total potentiality
Until the clay is glazed
It can be returned to the center
Many times and reworked
There is an immense beauty and power
About the unformed but centered mass
Hovering on the brink of form.
Annex 22 An
Anthology of
Omaha, Bench Press 1981