I’ve walked a wall around my father
Choosing angles from different sides
Point of reference at no return
And wondered where the intersection
Of two points on a line.
And diagrammed completely every sentence
Touching every principle that modifies a man.
We are the darknesses uncolored
Shapes that haven’t taken form
Our pseudo-self-dimensions are transparently inept
So here I am without conclusion
An inequality unborn:
There is no mathematic in the muddled myth of man.
(Previously published in Friction Magazine, Winter 2000, Vol 2, Issue 1)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem