Grass

The river irises
Draw themselves in.
Enough to have seen
Their day. The arras

Also of evening drawn,
We light up between
Earth and Venus
On the courthouse lawn,

Kept by this cheerful
Inch of green
Arid ten more years—fifteen?—
From disappearing.

In the Dark

Come, try this exercise:
Focus a beam,
Emptied of thinking, outward through shut eyes
On X, your “god” of long ago.

Wherever he is now the photons race,
A phantom, unrelenting stream,

For nothing lights up. No
Sudden amused face,
No mote, no far-out figment to obstruct
The energy—
                            It just spends
And spends itself, and who will ever know

Unless he felt you aim at him, and ducked

Or you before the session ends
Begin to glow