Thomas W. Epp, Math Center
I wrote my note on a Möbius strip;
Stuffed in a Klein bottle,
I sent it off on an Escher sea.
“Help”, it said, “I’m stuck in an infinite loop!”
I waited and waited until one day
My note washed back to me.
I wrote my note on a Möbius strip;
Stuffed in a Klein bottle,
I sent it off on an Escher sea.
“Help”, it said, “I’m stuck in an infinite loop!”
I waited and waited until one day
My note washed back to me.
The ball rollsAnd bounces, tooCarried by the windAs it descends to the groundIt sits idle as gravity has placed itDiversion is the way of the ballIt dares to deflect worry and distress by Alexandra Foerster, ’09
Jonathan Grimm always loved solving puzzles. He knew all aboutthem. Jonathan knew the history of puzzles. He was an 80-year old widower.His children and grandchildren all lived in different states. Jonathan didn’tcare. Now that he was all alone he had all the time in the world to puttogether more puzzle pieces.Sometimes his eldest son would…
you need something poeticfor your songlike seafoam green wallsbare and picture-lessa sun-soaked skyabove a crashing waterfallor a hat blown off in the winda crazy mind that can interpret numbersa child deep within the coves of slumberyou need a rhyme to make a dimesome guitar stringsand a little timesomething to sing aboutand a steady beatlike footsteps…
With apologies to Mary OliverFeeling her kicking, the waves of her motionKnowing my life was changing, I held my bellyAnd hoped, and I felt reassuredA higher power, I should think,Observing my willingness to take on a challengeHad presented me thisHad taught me to live and learnNot caring of the length of this lessonLooking to the…
the darkness whispersand just as the light, it won’t allow sleepa mind full of messy, sleepless thingssmirks devilishly at its part in the deviant planshadows emerge upon the projection of lightthat sneaks under the door from the halland the air screams wildly at the top of its lungseyelids refuse to dropthoughts refuse to stopthey race…
Pomatomus saltatrix, you showed me how to loveIn lapping of the waves against the gallows’ posts aboveThe gentle bay, forever clear, where barnacles sing ofA heaven freed of ugliness and brutal death thereofThe fisher boy had broken yet like tawny August dawnA tiny speck of cold and sweat dripped slowly down uponA bare yet gilded…