The Morning No Mistakes Were Made
The lilies are but vehicles, but closest points in compact convex sets to other
compact convex sets, great parallelograms of white, my public and my private
lives, my irony, my ice cream and my cognitive decline. When everything around
me is in fixed position I'll say I'm in fixed position. As I show my teeth so in a
state of grace I stand my ground. The monotonic gives me leave to improvise
then, cold, goes home. If what I think is not odd is I lack imagination but should
you be the superposition I would like to look at twice, should Simon say guess
pestilence and be a prophet, the penumbra will be coming round the mountain
when the umbra does.
When Parades Collide
Holding a diploma backwards is as bad as holding no diploma. Is it bad because
the devil says it's bad or does the devil say it's bad because it's bad? You're the
last person I'd suspect of having an agenda. Monuments collide with flying flags
then follow through. When you say under god and gravity I say the secret's in the
sarsaparilla. Only to disturb the surface, I bring nuance to the children's table.
Where there is a barrier there is a countdown clock. I'm tilting at causality as at a
tasseled hat. Amendments to the constitution are forever so consider neither the
attorneys general of vernacular tranquility nor notice how they work the room. It's
one AM, do you know where your limbic system is?
On Simulating Weightlessness
One chicken on the other chicken spots a flaw. One chicken of existence calls the
other chicken of existence white then out. Ubiquity is in fact equal to existing
chickens. Each existing chicken has a unique fate. A molecule of oxygen is as
much an occasion as photography is truth. Believers leave when it gets real.
Perfection but a stepping-stone, he leadeth me beside the spinning lilies as I
disapprove of one diaspora after another. It's a kitchen sink means that it's a
means to an end, a bad companion to the manna of demand, a geometric series for
a physical phenomenon, the oldest known. Consider the tiptoers through the
tulips who won't tiptoe. You're no enemy of mine. I know that there's a natural
world because sometimes it passes between me and my eternal spring.
Heikki Huotari attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. Since retiring from academia/mathematics he has published poems in numerous journals and in five poetry collections and has won one book and two chapbook awards. His Erdős number is two.