Folk Tapped Pots
by Lydia Harris
and the pots sang back.
Folk whooped into the hollow bellies of pots.
The whoops whirled into gales, clotted into pebbles.
The pebbles skidded and rolled like planets breathing gases and vapours
| Grooved Ware | |
|---|---|
| As Prayer | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| 'Energy is an attribute of objects' | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| Folk Tapped Pots | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| How I know you | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| Pots Still | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| She that will have a pot out of the clay | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| The Words of the Pot to the Swallow | Poem by Lydia Harris |
| Tracing the Lines Exhibition Tankerness House | Poem by Lydia Harris |