Paul tethered himself to stone lions.
He was in front of a library.
He was devoted to myth.
He wished to create his own.

Paul pulverized pomegranates
because he liked the sound
of Paul pulverized pomegranates.
That was good enough.

None of the passers-by
confused the pomegranates
for a bomb or any other device
that would go boom!

In fact all the passers-by
believed this was some performance art piece
and a few of them looked for a hat
in which to leave a dollar—there was no hat.

Now that his pomegranates were pulverized
Paul rubbed a thin layer of reddish paste
on the stone lions
until the lions were coated.

Paul lay down on the concrete
and stared at the clouds as they passed overhead.
Birds landed upon the stone lions
and pecked up the crushed pomegranate.

As Paul watched clouds pass by
he occasionally got shit on by birds taking flight.
He pondered what was mythic about this demonstration
tethered to stone lions.

He had no answer.
He heard no answer from the spirit beings in the clouds.
He heard no answer from the Field of Dreams voice.
He decided he should plan better next time.

copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney

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