← v14n1, Spring 2015
Poetry · Volume 14, Number 1

Richmond

Fenyadi was my guru,

which I learned on the road.

I followed him into the woods.

The woodpecker was followed first

by butterflies, which led

to the woodpecker. We each had

our own glass vase. We gathered

bark that was knocked down

by woodpeckers. Breathed deeply.

The sun shone off

the river and there were no boats.

Or do you have heavenly

soil? It wasn’t known

who said it.