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.
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…
When I was a child,I dreamt of what I could do.I’d stand outsideOn a clear spring afternoon,Waiting to catch a butterfly on mytongue.I always wanted to catch a rainbow.I’d sit on the floor,Talking to inanimate objects,Hoping they were actually listening.I always wanted to advise a balloon.I’d sit in front of the fireplace,Consuming the warmth.And be…
There once was a man on the moonWho made all the ladies swoonHe sat drinking his wineWhich was so fineAnd declared he would return home soon!Every child at one time or another declares that the moon ismade of cheese; this is the story of the man who proved that it reallywas.As a young boy growing…
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…
They just gave me a new placement. It was a shock, becauseI thought things were fine where I was. But you never know aboutplacements; the general wisdom is there is no way to understand them.So I am upset about the move, even though it looks good so far—theyput me in a room of my own,…
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…