The sculptress sits with fingertips impressed in clay
what lays behind the eyes, she bewitchingly defines
the face contours toward Toltec time
she divines his lips, to dip into dreams
that seamlessly take flight

The bird on his brim is the rim of a world
that is toured
if you will, take a flight on the wind
of worlds that thoughtfilled words create

Worldwinds blow to and fro,
through the nagual’s nostrils pass
chills and thrills formed in realms
held in hands unbound by land and time

Breathing in and out with the thought
that rock and clay and say
when made as offerings complete a ring
heard if held in high esteem
and placed, where embraced, come to life
to touch, if touched

The sculptress’ gift, through fingertips on molding clay
is to switch on
the shaman’s twitch

The sculptress is a witch
take flight

2-11-02

By Kenny Rose Butts

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