Urban Physic Garden



June 19th, 2011 · No Comments · Medicinal Plants Poetry Project

He is surfaces. He may terrify, be wondrous, awesome even, but he is not and can never be merely beautiful.
I want you to agree to something. I know of two fellows who are setting off in the same direction as you tomorrow morning. I’d like you to consider going with them. Staying with them for as long as is possible.
Harrow, Harry, Hart, Hartfield, Hartley, Hartleys, Harvard, Harvey, Harville, Harwood, Hans, Hathi, Havilah, Hannah, Halley, Hadith, Hazel, Heart, Hearts, Harz.
You’ve had your fun, they seem to imply. You’re intruding now, an over-burdened middleman. You’re impossibly balanced on your many left legs. You’re squat, dour and frenzied, with a rubbing cloth attached to your resting hand.
Yet others, led by his gorgeous melody, regarded it as an affectionate portrait. There was said to be love in his delivery, which many believe overrode any confusion aroused by the playful needling in his lyrics. If it was about her, it’s as close as he ever got to either a thank you or an apology for using her as a stepping-stone in his own sprawling journey.
Michael Zand
(From Herbarium, a new poetry anthology. Launch and reading 22 July)

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