Ruminants

What Mandanipour, through translation,
Calls something like self-preservation
Through moments of inattention sticks

In the mind a bit. His narrator
Is thinking of nature’s dependence
On the inattention of its parts

The better to keep its parts going,
But you may have had that sensation,
Once or twice in your life, that despite

Knowing well how distraction is death,
Without a little relaxation
Of attention, your grip on the world

Will get so bloodless, your eyes so tired,
You’ll end up dead of tunnel vision,
So focused you missed the obvious.

Obviously, in this universe,
Everything’s trade-offs and balancing.
That’s the mean and exhausted wisdom.

Must you keep trying and trying things?
Let it get you, since it will, between
Blinks of attention, inattention.

While wrestling with your foolish wisdom
One afternoon in the trees, you hear
A startled snort behind you. Scared deer.