Keep writing man, down with the thing!

A trinity don't make a chorus, (nor for that do darkangel and horus...) when the choir - though patrician - leaves some of us wishin' that one of them owned a thesaurus. (I'd have done better, but my spondee's rusty.)

Now that right there is why I keep coming back to pomeranker. It sure as hell ain't the orchard. I mean, the poetry.

"You have learnt your lesson, my child" said the old teacher, "Now go and tend to the orchard". The young monk left his master in the garden and returned to his labours. Master Daizui watched him disappear among the tall sheaves of rice, then, when he was quite sure the pupil had gone, he removed his sandal and covered the manhole with it.

Not to bore the bystanders, shall we continue this discussion in limerick form? So: "you shouldn't have used the word thing" comes a voice from th' ecliptical ring but varmint & critter don't hardly seem fitter lest I too far to the plebian swing.

You are correct, 11.6 cm is rather on the thick side. I should've drawn it, it's been years since I could just visualize stuff like that and be able to count on getting it right.

No, you are.

Here's a problem for you, Goad (though I daresay I only just invented it so it may be rife with schoolboy errors): Assume an equilateral triangle shaped manhole cover, with sides of length x. Show that if we are to be sure the manhole cover CAN fall down the manhole, then its thickness must not exceed (x/4)*(2*(root 3) - 3) Indeed, if this result is correct, and we assume a reasonable value for x (say 1m?), then provided its thickness does not exceed about 11.6 cm, it WILL be able to fall down the manhole. Is 11.6cm a spectacularly thick manhole cover? I daresay it is not, though more research in this field is DESPERATELY needed. Good day to you, Sir!

You're wrong, and you're a grotesquely ugly freak.

What are you trying to imply? And - no.

Everybody? No, that would be horus8 & darkangel. I am only a trinity.

Hmm, why does "thing" bug you? The pome is intended as a metaphor about the interaction between big-R Romantic & RatMat, or Science. Note it's ambivalent & doesn't claim either mode is intrinsically better than the other. So it's a thing to the Romantic narrator, he hasn't the nomenclature the collector likely has. You're right about 'till though. Silly affectation. I will change it.

Thanks for the comments! This was an experiment, trying to capture the way the real Jennifer actually talked -- flitting from idea to idea, sometimes with the connections missing. It is composed of fragments related by shared nouns & verbs. You can place punctuation and conjunctive phrases in many alternate places, and get different sentences. For example in line 12 the word details is noun or verb depending which phrase you're putting it in. I often do this once as the key line of a poem but here I'm doing it once or more on almost every line. But you're right, no one will ever give a fuck about this silly theory. Should see the response on Eratosphere, lol, they practically lynched me.

It's a 9 year old poem, written while I was wandering the west coast living from a backpack. I titled it so to poke fun at myself. My intentions are to try to learn to write a little bit of real poetry -- real things, real situations etc., a la your Woodsworth quote -- after many years of not writing. But instead I have a decided tendency to cop out and write in big abstractions like a teenager. So, I'm mocking my own big-P poems, as you called them, to try and send a message to the creative part of my brain (assuming it isn't wholy atrophied) that they aren't really what I want. That's probably more psychology than anyone wished to know, but hey you asked, and I'm an exhibitionist (figuratively only, of course).