∞ according to the order of operations,
(your name) belongs in parentheses since it is always the first thing i think about when i wake up
which works out, because it also looks just like the smile on my face the instant you walk in a room :)

∞ through all the ups and downs, all the positives and negatives of this fickle thing called love
|the light in your eyes| is the only absolute i'm sure of

∞ i can't calculate how you became an integral part of my life in such a small number of days
nor can i differentiate between the rising sun and your blinding smile
but every moment you're not here reminds me that i can't f(without you)
and i swear there's no limit to the distance i'd travel, whether it be three months or five thousand miles

∞ i get why they use an exclamation point in factorials now
because nothing makes me happier than counting down and multiplying the reasons I fall 4! you every 3! seconds, giving thanks 2! the stars that i somehow 1! my way into your heart

∞ so often, i have found myself divided by the fear of being loved and the fear of being alone
which is still only a fraction of the anxiety i feel when i think about the possibility of disappointing you,
but you are the better half of me,
and i can only hope to reciprocate the endless joy you've brought into my little world

∞ i've spent a lot of time stumped by the different branches of mathematics,
but you are the root of my confusion
for even though your legs stand firm and your arms are steadier than logs,
i can't figure out how your hand fits so gently in mine like perfect symme-tree

∞ i want to hold you so close they call it a sin
cos i love how your body curves around me
and how you never stop listening when my thoughts go on a tangent
and how you have acute, pardon my language, angle-side-side

∞ there are sum nights when i tally sheep instead of sleeping
because you've proven that 1 + 1 equals too much happiness for a heart to carry
but the only thing that doesn't quite add up is how six months can seem like no time at all
yet being with you makes it feel like infinity

roundabout poem (another poem, another day)

<>

the notion punches into my mouth when
chilling , deleting and wasting time *pro=ductively
(professionally ducking responsibilities)
with no home to go to, but to write with purposeful
meandering, in a roundabout manner,
on a Saturday, luxury~leisurely in bed with runs
for asiago bagels and blue mountain coffee,
and wondering why you would read this, and
losing my debate internal & and infernal if
this is worth my time, nonetheless the urging
is only purging by clicking clacking on a keyboard,
inviting you to join me  under my cozy
floral coverlet, and to enjoy my pastoral view,
of water, women and why not, a trilogy of

factorials (or is it factorals? permutations or combinations) *another poem, another day)

panoramic bleeding view unceasingly changing,
reflecting god’s mood swings or an atheist’s humbuggery)

and women lies beside me, guilty pleasure, mine or hers😉, becoming part, a parcel upon the land/waterscape/escape, with sun rays invisible yet blindingly make me glinting and squinting,
and wet grass, dripping trees,  and going round and round, so
stray thots evolving/revolving and thus
this roundabout poem deserves a decent burial,
so I thank it, thank you, thank her, and the sky
and the glisten of a wet drenched everything,
a Saturday~Sabbath on which a poem was delivered
from me within, in a cesarean eruption,
my child blessed, sent to you with gratitude,
a much underrated emotion, but which occupies
me frequently when your days go dimmer,
and the

mind is sharply focused/used on about
what is value,
valuable, and what shall be valued on this damp
rainfall rainfull wordfull wonderful momentary
escapery into being together with…you, silly!

writ  pre-noon,
Saturday~Sabbath,
(on S.I., by the Sound’s calming waters
where the poems fall from trees on a glider
of wet leaves, or fly by on a modest mph breeze,
looking for human sense to grab aholt of for
canning and preservation…come see for yourself….*)

Imagination
On the cusp of extinction.
Surreal dreams, tethered.
Creativity, withered.
Can't fly, so heavy.
Can't think, so clumsy
Can't contemplate, only can process
what we're being fed.
Our minds, concealed.
Can't think, shut up.
And keep running
like a dog playing fetch
or a hamster running
but getting nowhere.
Keep running
from what you've really got.

I miss those days

when I saw a fascinating shine,
even in a mere dime.
Or the beauty in a snake's eyes.
Whole civilizations in the clouds.
Tiny little monsters I used to draw.

Now, my mind is elsewhere,
pretending to be an intellectual,
it wanders from eccentric angles to factorials
and making its way through the Lissajous curves,
makes a perfect robotic locus.
Studying!

See.

It used to rhyme.
It used to question.
It used to weave poetry.

Now it does none of them.

Doesn’t need to be novelty’s
Next revelation
Adding factorials
To the equation
That always results
In a nightly reveal
One more piece to the puzzle
Of what I conceal
When complete
Will appear
To compose me
The soma
And unto my readers
Convey its
Persona