Ode to a Derek Larsen Incense Container

Nights and
days.
Nights become
days
of raging fire
and molten ash
billowing
bellowing Hell-fire
controlled in vain
by a man
a chance man
a driven man

a man from Wichita.

Passion and love
for
creation.
Love
for the
gamble
love
for the
surprise

love for the art.

That is more
than me.

Bellowing Hell-fire
catapulting down on
your honesty
your
mud.


Days and nights
of
molten ash
gives you
a birth
a shell
cuts
scabs
a lava cocoon.


You may
or may not
yield
when daylight appears
but you will be
touched
loved
hated
not understood.
Aftermath of creation.
A pregnant
kiln
a warm kiln
sitting
on the
floor
a warm brick
of coral.
We remember
fondly
the sandy
concrete
we
skinned our knees
on in
primary school.



Your tummy embalmed
with transcendant
fragrance
aloeswood
matured
silently
ripe over centuries
patient
friend of
coral.

Rasp to the hands
erotic kisses on my
fingertips
that delicately
foolishly

care

for creation.
That is more
than me.

Your violent grace
Brutal elegance
dignified
as you are
cutting
cutting through the tearoom
cutting my fingertips
plump tatamicheeks
fear
your seat.

Quiver
my flesh wants
your touch
your
violent scratch
in silence
to feel you
cold scratching brick
feel you against skin
your weight
Glacier cutting through
rock
your song
is pure
existence.

Flowers love you.

Honest

allowing
stoic
profound punk
in
the tearoom
silence.

Harmony
no reverence
tranquil rage

Please pass
around for viewing.






Anagama Incense Container by Derek Larsen
Ode by Adam Wojcinski