Wednesday, May 27, 2009


What shape of mountain might you be,
what manner the curve
about your single upward-arched umbilicus,
what steepness the slope of your coefficients' climb,
that after convolving
and contorting
and clever recursion,
crushing you
and crashing you
against your brother's craggy scarp,
a more vertiginous mount remains,
a peak more sharp, more stately still,
looms loftily above your head?

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