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Glassblowers (Free verse) by Christof

I am just a tourist. I gawp as men behind a grille, Paid to spend their lungs in glass, Blow globes and bowls and jugs And swans, each one the cask Of someone's breathing. In the shop I cradle in my hands a life. All breakages must be paid for And I can't afford the price.

Frass 19-Sep-02/6:32 PM
Nice poem, Crstf. I saw the glass blowers of Zwiesel, Germany, once. I have NO clue how they do what they do and would make one red hot gelatinous mess of it if I had to give it a whirl.




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