Sweat dripped
upon the surface of the work
leaving tracks for rivers
Fingers press
the clay, takes shape
under hands
in a dream of art, alone
continents are formed:
mountains rise
from deserts, placed
with random care
a tree, a lake
then more,
in time, the work will
own the work and have
only the artist’s tools
to remember if they will
it was art that built the world. -dean
in a dream of art, alone-
From Art is Art-dean
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