Because I lack the energy today to come up with something new, or even a new addition to something old, I present another piece of juvenilia. I actually like this one, a short imagistic work with a bit of mathematics. More like what I'm writing now, but better for its succinctness. Perhaps.
Stories I wish I had never told you
On my wall, there is a photograph
of my father, and another
of a man in a train station, his arm held
like a paper swan's wing, as though you
could find the square root of something
under his shoulders.