A Man and a Woman Might at This Moment

A man and a woman might at this moment,
in the complexities of rut, be begetting
a child, who in the gradual unevent
of journalistic history, by bed wetting

to patient training and a loving, slow instruction,
may some day read a poem and be changed
into himself in ways he could not have known
by reading the papers. This has been arranged

since the first glyph became an ancestral letter
and started to say a word. Or it took place
without arrangement, if random will do better
than the inevitable. In any case,

what that child does raising words from a page
to cadence and reverberation blows out
ministers, generals, and all the rage of passion
to waken a resonant place at the core of things.