I had to build the retaining wall
to knock it down, no other way. When
ripples nearly as still as the water
they're in begin to look imagined
you must save them. That is, you must not
make matters worse. Still water is
a treasure, beyond meditation; enter in.

Never mind it's all a homestore's junk,
vinyl and pumps and chlorine. A wild mind
fires on any around. Then, past the poetry
of stillness fly-rippled, there's no need,
no need. No holding back, no water. No
other way, no way, wall comes down.

Everything's tumbling, then it's grey
until it fades, then it's done.


� 2004 by John Eivaz