MOWING THE FIELDS OF THE REPUBLIC

I mow my lawn
 
in concentric squares 

shrinking green tufts


into a disappearing island
But no lawn is an island
why not past my boundaries
to the neighbor’s yard

I'll need to take time off from work


as I race up and down


suburban streets


connecting rivers of lawn
with the Capitol lawn,
New England town greens.
and Kentucky bluegrass
which requires a stately pace
 

to please pampered thoroughbreds.

In the midwest coliseums


100 yards are precisely coifed 


Is it any wonder artificial turf 
was abandoned 

and returned to grass and earth?
Where are the dreams in artificial turf?

My vast grid 

extends to summer lawns of memory
front yards of modest Ohio towns


and to graveyards of my grandparents.

I mow Little League fields
in diagonal textures
the kind you see on during the baseball highlights.

I'm left mowing in the dark


one giant island of the great republic


with rolling lawns
--from sea to shining sea.