An excerpt from Part  Six:  Puma

31.

Now I came to understand
the pounding of the points,
the incessant pounding
on and on and on . . .
this pounding is, in the end, 
me, is truly myself, me,
my universe, pounding on the stars.

It is a pounding
on the point,
a deafening
of hammered souls,
pounding down
on the point,
the point, the point,
me, me,
there must be
a refinement,
an abrasion, 
an adjustment,
a tempering,
of each time
there is a point . . .
so behind me
are my pasts,
and ahead,
my futures . . .
round and round,
you know,
this very soul.

And then the universe
poured out from me . . .
all the blackness
and all the stars,
all the dark poems,
and all the far points
of my existence.
And, and, and . . .

I am.