the rectangular garden

the color of red flesh when pluck is ripe
a bite juice hot from the growing sun
succulent rich as growth from fresh owned earth
the imperfect shapes of roundness touch
smooth contours of high ridges, depressions
a green leaf hat sprouted from the top
severed from vines for my immediate task
of eating, swallowing, digesting, and
for you this impression

in a garden of vines so many green lumps
hardening in clusters with a few turning
drawing from the green a riper red of one
drawing from the rooted mesh of vines
drawing from earth and water and creatures
tunneling within this moist earthen conservatory

a boundary of natural happenings contained
preserved in purposeful developments all around
the children laugh and squeal and bounce
on trampolines the teens hiding behind fences
drink illusions of freedom for their boundless
eyes trapped quickly looking left and right
and mom drives the big machine to the super
market produce genetically arranged to survive
under fluorescents, irradiated into purity

outside it's been
sunny, hot, we are growing
tomatoes a few ripen
each day you can pick
a few more nothing
else is like it
tasting fresh warm
goodness just flowing

in the soil of time seasons
forever change with
us or without

green and green heart rooted in the vines
plucked still green to avoid decay along
the routes to homes through buying moms
and dads marching lonely off to win
giving and taking one for the team
then another giving and taking just one
more giving, and taking just one more
in a garden grown by wind

sun above the fires of collision
boil steel a framework of paper
cards towered up rising like all
that could ever be bleak tops
of googly playschool blocks
stacked and stacked on each
and one another stacking paper
blocks like steel rising to
the tower of everything we know
rising like a grid in empty space
spreading like necessity to tower
lifting itself up high, lifting
itself as a monument to fullness

these are the weathered arrows pointing
toward progress close at hand, pointing
at right angles forming grids of up
down left right forward, backward
pointing steady toward the promise
of something faded out of mind
and heart, quiet whispering of ...

green hanging clusters and pods
the vines and the climbing stick
sharp crystalline winter springs
brown down evenly - enriched