Three Poems

THE GAZE SALUTES LYONEL FEININGER
WHILE CROSSING THE NEW JERSEY WASTELANDS

A certain delicacy in the desolation:
olive-green the polluted
stretches of grass and weeds, the small
meres and sloughs dark with the darkness
of smoked glass,
gray air at intervals slashed with
rust-red uprights,
cranes or derricks;
and at the horizon line,
otherwise indeterminate,
a spidery definition of viaducts and
arched bridges,
pale but clear in silverpoint.


OF GODS

God gave the earth-gods
...