Two Poems 
Alan Felsenthal

To enter in passing

to meaning we came
across foci, a matter of
doing by faith alone, of
a fire centered in itself, in
principle we lengthened
to adjust, by a raylight
as refraction, after vision
points converge, turning
a beam distinct, dense,
another object, breaking
up through traveling, we
entered, index, essence.


A frame in which a window

to admit light into instance of organs, render
an area to during, sash under intention,
something separated to be contained, the air

before collapse, the air disconnects
by glass, to sort a part and divide without
divorce, a sunder from the others, outlet

to the scheduled, still a socket, circuit
somehow of the binding views, of things
growing together of separate parts, edges

the joiner to enlist in a line, a straight
line resisting invasion of curve, set
to withstand, opposing something else.