Four New Orleans Poets, Pt. 2: John Bowman

John Bowman has discovered a wormhole.

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.


minute departure

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.





Rope Round

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. 




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