-at 1480-

I see the faceplate of the Moon

At the bark of the oak

Just left of the gravel laid down

To make a driveway of the earth.

Then at the heads of the hedges

Expands the rest of evening;

Slow-moving in blue and dropping

Greys.

The natural property lines in back

Are not clearly delineated

With fences or walls or rows of neat annuals,—

But nebulous,— but not drifting to blend like Renoir,—

But more like the fuzzy edges of Ruben’s muscles.

There’s some sort of perceived strength here;

Different than the tough-edged street-scapes,—

Like moving from Hanson to Babbitt.

One realizes the strength of one, can’t quite comprehend
The strength of the other;—

Both counting for something.

We need milk and toilet paper.

Same as those living within the other landscapes.

                                     Swansea / Fall River

                                     5/25/12