New member Anita Feng recently wrote to The Slip Trail, sharing her book, Autobiography of Clay, released in 2025 by Finishing Line Press of Georgetown, Kentucky. 

Autobiography of Clay tells an intimate story of that extraordinary raw material, clay, starting from the beginning of the cosmos to what we can dig out of our own backyard. Blending science and mythology along with her life-long career in working with clay, Anita Feng examines the question: what is clay really, and how should we behave together? How is it possible to make an original life out of unruly mud? And how much will it cost? As these questions imply, to understand clay is the same as understanding ourselves. 

“Anita Feng’s Autobiography of Clay is a wondrous book, the story of the mystery of clay in all its many forms. From eroding mountains to the beginnings of life on earth to the accidental discovery of pottery-making to the frustrations amazements and inner alchemy of shaping a clay vessel on a wheel that will be fired in a kiln and sold at a Farmer’s market, this deft little book of masterful prose poems will remind you of the wonder of everyday things.” –Norman Fischer, poet, author, Soto Zen priest, author of Through a Window, a serial poem about looking and seeing.

"Bodhidarma" by Anita Feng, raku. Photo provided by artist. 

Anita Feng’s major writing awards include a National Endowment for the Arts grant, a Washington State GAP award and the Pablo Neruda Prize for poetry.  Publications include a lyric novel, Sid, and two books of poetry, Internal Strategies, University of Akron Press and Sadie & Mendel, Backwaters Press.  Her recently published book, Autobiography of Clay, is now available from Finishing Line Press. Additionally, Anita works as a ceramic artist and teaches Zen in Albuquerque. 

Copies of her book can be purchased online at Finishing Line Press or at Amazon.  https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/autobiography-of-clay-by-anita-feng/ 

Excerpt from the text:

The Grandmother Of Clay

 

For billions of years I’ve been grinding my teeth in my sleep, shattering mountains in my jaws, my arms and shoulders locked over this hoard of flinty clay. 

But the real reason I don’t sleep at night is because I’m on guard against the wind, rivers, and rain that steal my clay away.

So when some bright-eyed, ignorant child saunters by with the aim to just take some, you can be sure I’ll let her know the price.

Every time her precious pots crack or fall apart, her problems will be the same as mine. 

She should know better. She should be more reckless and divine. And she should leave something of use behind.