Grass by John W. Sexton

by Steven McCabe

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Along my flanks edges of me are cool

in the shadows of the trees. The rest of me

is out in the sun, brightly green. I’m green

everywhere, except when I’m not; but even in

the withering of me there’s a memory

of green.


My name is synonymous with green

and like that colour I’m innocence itself.

Everything comes to me for everything comes

to the floor, and I’m the floor of everywhere.

birded grass
Even beneath the sea you’ll find a version

of me. But most of the time you’ll find me here,

wherever you happen to be. I’ll be waiting. I remain

here for everyone. It is said I cover the dead, and actually

I do. But I much prefer the living.

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And the living I live

for most is my darling love. She steps barefoot onto me,

walks my length. I feel myself cooling under each step.

Then she undresses and begins to lie down.

First I feel the shadow of her shape, and then

her shape. I could grow into this. Usually I do.

ocean lawn

 Previously published in Census 2 – From the collection The Offspring of the Moon, Salmon Poetry

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John W. Sexton’s mind was poured into his body in 1958; since then his life has been dedicated to poetry.

egg four

The photo of the grass I wove into some of my digital compositions is from Wikipedia Commons. Credit Marcus Obal, 2007. I am manipulating this image under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2