My Knitting
What Makes a Good Hat for a Man?

Poetry

Quink

1

Sick of ink (a professional worder) 
I went into the biosphere 
With two botanizers, a birder, 
And a Leave-No-Trace-Trained mountaineer.

We witnessed the sacred in several classes. 
They showed me how elevations flatten 
On a topo map. Through fine field glasses 
We confirmed a quantity of Latin. 


2

Idle by nature, sick of talk, 
I went into the somewhat wild 
With an undifferentiated dog, 
An apple, a gum wrapper, and a six year old.

The crags scratched our eyeballs. A brace of Quink 
Came burtling out of their whiskets. Old Breather 
Whulphed. It wasn't what you think, 
Exactly. I guess you had to be there.


RICHARD KENNEDY

Antioch Review 
Summer 2012

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