Beautiful form,
Color of cement,
Rough texture,
Heavy weight.
Thin brush,
Melted white wax,
Pattern applied,
10 minute wait.
Wide brush,
Turquoise and white glazes,
Alternating in bands,
Around the tall vase
Sitting on a plank,
Drying in the breeze,
Sunning itself,
Just another in a line-up.
Dark place,
Intense heat,
Wax burns,
Glaze melts and fuses.
Brief glimpse of sun,
Put out in the trash,
Newspapers below ignite,
Lid closed down tight.
Flames suffocate themselves,
Reducing environment,
No longer oxidizing,
Affects the final look.
Carbon floats, turning
What was covered by wax into shiny black,
Adding lines of black to the white glaze,
Covering the vessel with burnt debris.
Exposed to the sun once more,
Cooled in the breeze,
Rinsed with water,
Scrubbed clean.
Admired by the crowds,
White vase with black cracks,
Copper bands with hints of turquoise,
Interspersed with black vertical leaves.
Each one different,
Results never predictable,
Never to be reproduced,
Variables too complex.
Raku-fired pottery, treasured for its unpredictable color variation
Why can’t nature’s palette of skin color,
be likewise prized,
instead of despised?
