That my mind races when I even think the words.
The lines of the old hymn
in loving-kindness Jesus came
My soul in mercy to reclaim
The idea for this poem.
I should be writing this poem.
The idea will get away from me.
It wasn’t that important to solve anyway,
which is good, because it doesn’t yield
to analysis or much of anything.
Even in physics we learned one can observe
vector or velocity, not both,
which leaves room for something. Call it God,
but not the god of flannel cutouts in cigar boxes,
musty Sundays, which leads us to ever more thinking.
I only wish I were chased by gorgons, or succubi.
Instead, it’s Bob from accounting, and he’s fully clothed,
asking me to use algebra to figure out what account to put a sale in. Read more…