Sonnet № 115037
Geometry for Dyslexics
God's children, they hijacked parchment planes, or made
them vaster, yet more finite so (a trick
lost on, or to, Cartesians;) for all day
we'd watched, helpless as dreamers, hands that swayed
straight parallels, then failed to intersect
what ought've intersected â so; and trod
the same bent circles till (forgetting these
were God's own figures,) we abridged. Outlawed
the negative, odd angles, sines. Left squares
reduced to weightlessness, whose even-shod
simplicity lulled us, told us how a piece
outweighs the whole, how points are naught. That there's
a good to invert evil - and a God
still greater than or equal to our cares.
5 comments
Adding the same thing to both sides of "tangled"
like this has made me lean out to my shelf
with parallel hands and take my textbook, spangled
with blots and gum, has made me start the fire
in my hearth early this year. You have made
me take the deadened textbook to its pyre
on logs and mourn it with the spark and spade.
Thank God! I cremated my mathbook after
I'd read this poem, though this poem meant
as much as what it made me burn. The scent
of smoke perfumes the rafters. I'm all laughter:
A math-made poem is as out of whack
as fortune-telling by the zodiac.
though the last stanza or so was really really good and so was the beginning. But a lot of it was needlessly complex. Since I'm a dyslexic, (and no, you didn't "offend" me) this poem I guess missed its point. Though I must say that if it's a dyslexic joke, it's quite funny.
When I wrote this, I thought it was the most genius metaphor ever. Now I think it's just preciouse beyond bearing.
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