THERMOS continues its document of four young New Orleans poets with John Bowman. John was born and raised near Philadelphia, down the street from an abandoned golf course. For three consecutive summers, he was the Ecology Director of a Boy Scout summer camp in hilly Pennsylvania. At camp, John mostly picked raspberries. In 2008 he enrolled at Tulane University, where he met some great poets. Two years and two theatrical performances later, John left the University. He currently works for a non-profit in New Orleans, renovating houses.
I waited for the train and then it left a blankness doused in fact. A scrap of map conjecture tore along the folds I wore though perforated earth below an overhanging wing -- an hour killed. I dreamt of toppled cider mills, a thistle- covered windowsill, stuffed with clementines. I wait for the particulars to settle. Every morning's melting stirring fields, glass clouds.
Cables, grass, I want a furnace in the land. An ice flag to cut the tendons. S and Z, oriented, voiced. Swelled countryside in tiers of lavender. Useless tangled line. Should cut the thorn bush if I must. A quarrel, two fists of grapes on the piano. Taught metals mined & wrought to sound. A humming still sand acre, glass where lightning hit, to mark a wave binding the baleful.