Tracing the Lines Exhibition Tankerness House
by Lydia Harris
Cover your face against my stare,
I can’t get my fill. Too late
to return through water and flame,
you’re trapped in your frown.
Your eyes half-formed
you stiffen in flames
- little martyrs you stay,
however much you want to be unmade.
| 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 |