Stillness can’t hold
still, gets
the shivers and shatters:
self-regulating systems
swinging through opposing
loops’ ceaseless adjustment
and redirection, though, find
variable ways to stay:
mood sweeps, so long as no
immoderation tears them
loose, bar off a middle ground
for ordinary happiness’s
strawberry plants, say (subject
to frost), whereas no body
bears (can it?) the hum of
undeviating happiness any
more than a constancy of
blithe cold: ups and downs
work out a way of showing up
from down as well as an
interregnum of nonchalance:
I’m impressed with the way
things work, work
itself setting up mid-regions
of rest, whereas (again) rest,
what can become of rest,
more rest?, so much rest
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