I hear the satisfying plop of wet clay and then the wheel spins and spins. Each hand curves, pushes, and smooths, lifts new life from a formless muck. The past cakes underneath my fingernails; the future, slick with glaze, blazes in the kiln. I wait to greet the freshest phoenix.
The Freshest Phoenix
Published by
Northwest Journals 
The words you chose gave this a tactile feeling. I could feel the clay. Very cool!
It really plopped inside my brain.
Your choice of words is incredible, Nate! ‘Formless muck’, ‘blazes in the kiln’ can not be teh same in any other words.
Enjoyed the images this brought forth. Also the sound Plop!
Beautiful imagery in your words. Loved the line ‘The past cakes underneath my fingernails; the future, slick with glaze, blazes in the kiln’ — very poetic.
I love this line: “The past cakes underneath my fingernails; the future, slick with glaze, blazes in the kiln.” Past and future are never far from one another.
Loved the imagery in your words Nate, i can almost smell the clay.
…… the freshest phoenix . Loved it. The smell and touch if the freshly baked pot/ jug from kiln is very satisfying.
http://ideasolsi65.blogspot.in/2017/06/hand.html?m=1