The Known Fields Poem by Warren Andersen

the known fields
the sown earth

the anticipated growth
is not guaranteed on birth

an embryo at most does the best it can
absorbing, directing, nutrients and

bam! Life!

flutter of blood in tiny hearts
a part in common

remembered by every art

and we'd all do well to look and see
what else is growing inside of, the

mite, tiny, microscopic corpuscles
munching dead skin and allowing we to shed
refined exoskeletons in bed
would they bleed if we smashed their miniature heads

a painting of flesh covered by insects has just been hung on the walls of the Louvre so we see modern art is aware, of the hearts beating, where

in the farthest reaches,
on uninhabitable beaches,
are the hearts?

one can only speculate about these unexplored parts...
i am inclined to think...
perhaps a revamp of the word heart is the way
addressing spinning molecules and atoms
as defined biologic patterns
and ascribing to they, a rhythmic pulse, lets say

i cannot fathom...

broken down, the heart is sluggish and unfit to 'start'
(a terrible fright. you get it right?)
like this prose it contracts and compels a little bit less

...to digress

a heart in a chest
denotes 'life' best