Fruit and Bowl

Pottery, Poetry + Paintings + Some Photos

Leave a comment

Photo: Plate + Pomegranate

Photo: by Benet


Leave a comment

Painting #7 and Metamorphosis


Time barrels by, the clovers blow, but everything
Else is broken. The curve, the color is frozen.
The worst is dirt but we keep on chomping,
And occasionally root for a tooth or some fur,

some proof that you and I actually were,
before on a whim we made X decision,
and when I say X, I mean Y too.
How could we have known how dark the dark could be,

While the lake lapped, and the parrot chattered away?
And when the worst eventually happens,
One thinks, “This was not supposed to be”,
but there’s evidence that it’s not our story:

there are other worms in this mound.
And we can’t return to that kind of past,
So imagine that soon some new kind of mask
Tossed round with rocks and stones and grass,

Will emerge in the tunnels under the house.
You can never entirely become what you were
But at least we can toast our future path:
here is wine, here is a tiny worm-glass.”

 – Pia Marrella Cisternino 

Leave a comment

Painting #8 – in process and I’m Writing to You From Behind the Mirror

First pass, then second Pass:


“I’m writing to you from behind the mirror.
I’ve come here out of fear that you will find
my flowers have gone and fallen to the ground….
And nothing is left for you—“

“Let’s say goodbye to loss, my pear,
And dress up in these clothes if only for a joke,
And taste this towering wedding cake.
Lately I’m not too concerned with the mirror;

its darkness is like the fear
that one might come to prepare for
when living with this kind of thing for all these years.
It’s alright to come out from behind the mirror:

Here are our broken blossoms and sticks,
The leaves may be brown but the stems can be fixed.”

 – Pia Marrella Cisternino                                    

Leave a comment

Painting #9 – process and Worm in Moonlight

Here is the under-painting (below), and follow-up that still needs some work around the edges – and the final:



Now we have no ears, no eyes, but imagine we’ll see
What’s really in the mirror.
Moonlight, I mused when we were young, flatters me,
But eventually one stops examining the body,

And pauses before ascending the tower
That one must erect now and then;
Perhaps we will laugh about it later,
But now that the case of the wilting flowers

and all they reflect has become so grave,
The pears are set on the table without a sound,
And we just eat, while waiting for some kind of salve
To carry us carefully out of the ground.

  – Pia Marrella Cisternino

Leave a comment

Painting #10 and Theater of Flowers


It seems that someone came and drank your water
While you were in bed dreaming of Vada,
But things are not as scary as they look:
The fruit is safe—maybe too safe in its cup.

Later we’ll confess our crimes and have some tea,
And we can take these tools and build the scenery
To deliver us all from all we mistook,
Into this scene about to happen in the book,

Where nothing is still, not even the fruit,
And buds start to rise from this dusty shoot.

                                      – Pia Marrella Cisternino