Suppose there might be iron

[joel]

Suppose there might be iron in the clay
or else some other rusty agent—this
would never seem to mother porcelain,
but bricks and styles of architecture yet
unknown— For nascent beauty, wet and smeared
on ruddy naked planter’s skin, what more
would be desirable to garden but
a rugged earth?— Refinement, Pardon cut
within its cracks and rooted in its lure
of fortress strength; no wonder there’s appeared
so often prayers: Amen, O Rock, now let
your inorganic steadiness remain
my case of structural design and dress
me as the life you foster as you lay.

[hester_prynne]

inorganic being.
I just finished Castenada's Art of Dreaming, in which there are many references to "inorganic beings", a concept of which I have been mulling over now for a while.
There is more to this poem, I mean, it could be made into an epic sort of piece...
I really liked it.

H