Textiles Neophyte

They call me “pauper’s apprentice”. The
Value of my skills minimized to a heart beat.
My cheap labor is all that cloth is
After, that, and my eager acceptance of meager
Hot potatoes, but in truth, I shall thrive
Taking the skills I learn into the great wide
World. My hope lays within my comprehension
That with my indefatigable spirit I can make
This cloth a lasting example of competence.
Someday I will be its master, and then
Peace may be had over what I decide about
A single thread. Receiving the Gift of this chance
Without resentment makes me rich even as I
Begin from nearly nowhere. Call me cotton bale.

copyright © 2013 Vivi Sojorhn


Five of Textiles

Every piece of fabric has two sides. Even
The simple ones do, though you can’t tell
The difference, and perhaps that is
What makes simple ones so worthy. I love
The complicated ones, with stitchery and
Patterns in the weave. Who can help admiring
the opposite, one side to the other? I am
Likely to wear the poor-looking backside of
A textile to fool the Fools. Let them presume
The poor gypsy wearing rags, frayed on
The edges and near the seams, if there are any.
I limp along through that fake hope of a
Crowd hiding scratchy interiors, towards my
Self, comfortable within, turning inside out.

2013 © Amanda Morris Johnson

Four of Textiles

The habit of believing in our own limitation
Makes for a tight and practiced fit as we draw
The caravan tent from packs against a
Desert’s moonlit storm, and as we hammer
Down the corners of apparent protection
Then we must fight against expectations
As well because there is nothing we can’t
Leave hidden in sacks and fear drives us
To hang privately upon what we hold dear
Under the vast night sky and we help others
Forget the palettes of rich carpets that
We will set ourselves upon tomorrow
When truths have settled down between
The rhythm of tea and hookahs and sales.

copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson

Three of Textiles

Long ago and far away a textile
Road changed the world, extending
Through dozens of cultures and
Connecting them inextricably to this
Day. Here a foundation for the modern world,
Wrapped in silk, it traded philosophies,
Beliefs and even plagues of driven
Death, as merchants and artists
Made their way upon those stones. In truth
Few traveled its course from end to end.
The point of its genius, of its design,
Expresses in a world ready to be
Woven together in a complex pattern
Fulfilling function and form perfectly.

copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson

Two of Textiles

Living at the edge of potential, a
Swath of clean, white cloth wraps
Two lovers together establishing the
Connection that is no longer obvious.
Otherwise, separated by the manifest
World into independence that hasn’t
Entirely materialized yet, these two
See their own worlds and only live by
The assumption that they share it.
Constantly surprised by the limitation of
Identity, they seek establishment of
Other self-made boundaries, uniforms and
Knot-tying to create dominion over
A world filled with acceptable flags.

copyright (c) Amanda Morris Johnson

Gift of Textiles

When I recognize the gift the spider gives
As she walks on air, teaching me many valuable
Lessons like how to make a robe of gossamer gold
And hang a tale on a tree with jagged
Angles that slow down the universe to paying
Attention to its spinning from her center.
This threading together, observed for eons,
Is more important than my fear of the way She
Moves and the way She sees me with her eights.
If I draw back from her, too, then I fail to
Notice her fine fur and courage of her size.
Gifts and fear don’t go together well, and so
I concentrate on her gifts and wonder at the
Reach of the dewy lace divine that I might give.