How the prime mover entangles the void.
Who the source of stillness is.
Where we learn the etiquette of listening.
Why only the sun can say,
"Roses open themselves."
These koans confused Shakyamuni
until he sat quietly and watched
the knot of everything untie itself.
A dandelion for instance.
The spinal cord of a snail
in the alchemy of moonbeams and dew.
The flower of your own emptiness
on its anorexic stem, a green systole
of pulverized bone.
What seeds are, the detritus
of nourishing corpses.
A hurricane of stars
in the spin of a quark.
Waltz of embryos, wasp flight,
your ear a hollow conch-full of oceans.
All that spirals causes silence.
You are the heart of the whirled.
Photo: Dante's muse, Beatrice, the divine feminine power of his intuition, shows the poet a vision of the Prime Mover.
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