Heart Lake

Every   outward   ray
has
all along and thru
an inward, backward—

That nozzle
          focused on the plot
                                            has
up its rope of shining gush
a backwards*
                      toward the aperture

                                                              *[an attraction
                                                                drawing back
                                                                that is the force
                                                                that threw it forth—
                                                                the force that threw it       forth
                                                                attractive
                                                                all along the outward path]

                               —LIKE that—

the energy
opening the world    making the world     open   up—
Can and should and must and always is
met—as IF met—
by an energy closing down
releasing all strife and urgency—
open arms and falling
home to the abyss—
open arms and happy
just where struggle    taut and pressing hard
                                                                              toils
                                                                                        goal

 Now, that “happy”
     is a delicate field
           insidious of fair color
passing through all circumstance
       without geometry—released, released
it radiates
             in undulations continuous
                                    but of no source
   filling the indefinite contours, opening spaces

                     And how the heart is an opening hollow
                                                                        in opening breast
                                              and fields the emanations of all things—

                                  ♦  ♦  ♦

Where does all this rancor     come   up from    then?
How does it accede
        to its own form
its accurate ratchets
              that clank each prong on prong
to ratchety object      

Tree stump sawed off after thunder struck,
obstructive metal face,
smooth office wall

            stop the sensitive fields
                             abrupt the fielding  

                                         Oh don’t stop now!
                    An arm

         —arm and hammer—
thumping     making
                                  breaking

   urging toil and making brave
         to brave the abruptive noise of it
 the slam and whack without neat interval
 shattering all poise
                                  is
only the outward shot
            of an inward releasing—
something released in the gut
      let go
                   no strain
  that then the hammer slam
                                to smash
                                        or join—

And yes the quiet
          settling of the pond water
   the vesperal disbursement of the perturbation of the breeze
 so that the cross-current wavulets of surfaces, interfering,
quiets down
                    to a smooth glaze

       is only to give a sharpened hardness to the surface of tranquility—
                                                      an edge that takes the breath away

       as moon blade stands over black shadow mountain

                              doubled
                                              without disturbance
                                                                                 on the pond