At Tye River Pottery

for Kevin Crowe

You built a little Japan

in the middle of Virginia.

The two don’t jibe

I thought

till my drive south

ended at Falling Rock Drive

perfect name for a potter

throwing clay

into the bowels

of an anagama

then feeding it

wood for days.

I threaded up the drive

slow as the blind

seeking the eye

of a needle

by touch alone.

I came to learn

from the clay

from your hands

at the potter’s wheel

but didn’t know

what I would learn

from an empty pot

or your fenceless gate

kabukimon

no inside or out

beckoning

enter here.

It is where the pot is not

that makes the vessel useful.

In your bathroom

a magazine

on Buddhist ecology—

if you need acres

to find nature

it’s not nature you found

You said three pulls to a pot

is all it takes

then showed a video

of an old British potter

lifting one hundred pounds

of earthenware.

One two three

planter done

ready to hold.

For a moment

in your little Japan

I emptied my mind

so I could learn from my hands

but when I left

your little Japan

thoughts filled me up

until I forgot

which is why I remember

to leave three holes

at the bottom

of a planter.