—with a bang—the hairy flower wild petunia—flings its tiny seeds—sudden and far—how and why—the scientist—kneels down—clamps a metal band—on a pigeon’s leg—her initials—and id number—my broken toe—x-rayed, recorded—at the Bleecker Street station—an old man—with head bowed—kneeling—on cardboard—an overcrowded—shopping cart, a sign—repent—the end is near—the Indian guru whispers—the only sin—to harm oneself—to harm another—is to harm oneself—to repent too much—is to harm oneself—on the platform—the next generation—leans over a keyboard—riffs, breaks, runs—his body hunched—fingers flying—30 miles an hour—all at once—released—the seeds spin outward—the bird flutters into the air—
18 March 2018
From Poets on the Road (City Point Press, 2016) by Maureen Owen and Barbara Henning © 2016. Included in Digigram (United Artists Books, 2020) by Barbara Henning © 2020.