Inside my contemplations
I find the most wonderful things.
Not songs [fools]
But how singing sings.
You told me a red wine you were drinking
belonged to your novel, so I couldn’t have it.
What was I thinking?
Our son’s breakfast fell from his plate
as neat rows of friends (hundreds)
looked up at the high towers of Harvard.
Pancakes, syrup and the richest cream:
I will have it, silly wife—
This is my dream.
Entertainment is entertaining
and entertainment formulas abound.
Choose a topic, violence, a plot.
Or choose the sweetest sound.
What is a prime number?
What is a prime minister?
Note the leaves of my dream
scattered on the ground.
I was the most arrogant adolescent;
I knew simplicity and youth were good.
[I just like it dad!]
The mathematics of failure
is damn glad it’s misunderstood.