by phillipw | Feb 13, 2019 | AF
The shreds and shards of poetry we find From ancient Greece are like the battered heads On ruined statuary, both aligned With code breaking and loss, all tattered threads Of ragged tapestries preserved in sand, The dunes of shifting chance. The...
by phillipw | Feb 8, 2019 | MA
6, 28, 496, 8128 . . . Perfection is a state devoutly sought, Evinced alone in mathematics, though. Reach out for it in other realms, there’s naught For seekers of this purest state. There’s no Escaping it: the sciences and art Collaborate against perfection, since...
by phillipw | Feb 4, 2019 | LU
There’s someone deep inside me who is me, The “me” who is my soul—or whatever— Since I’m an unbeliever. It’s the key, Though, something that no surgeon can sever, Not even hifalutin’ blade-like shrinks. He’s actually a person. If you scan Me with precision...