Poets for Science
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Mathematics as Metaphor

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Today is the last day

of October in Southern California—

Santa Ana winds threaten to wound

the hillside sunflowers with fire.

I am a river drained of its filaments.

I am dark water, an empty field.

Outside the logic of circumference,

my mind spirals towards the negative.

My voice is a flat surface wishing

it could be three dimensional,

a loud red. Really my mood

is a parabola. Some days

the world seems like an ellipse

but it’s more like the sky

is temporarily turbulent.