It is only a dream of the grass blowing
East against the source of the sun…
It’s always east with you, isn’t it? Hand-made,
manmade, meticulous meadows—marshes
all laid-out so the mind can heed them—
A picture of health—east!—perfect for tuition,
even though intuition knows this at once.
Let imaginary light light the body.
Let it lift and heave the meadow up,
a mountain made by minds, all ours.
This morning geese were large upon the grass.
A russet-red rise, like you, my friend—
but they flew off, east into your eyes.
Yesterday, we found food by scratching where
the vines were. Big white sweet potatoes.
Today we explore the salt hay marsh. Why it glows.