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Two Short Poems on Letters and Numbers

Down on the Farm
On a page as white as milk, row
after row of black letters filled
a large field of text to be tilled
with red tools, such as a pilcrow.

Way Out There
Neither the infinite nor the infinitesimal
will you reach with yet another decimal.

Comments

  1. Big Jon Bully says:

    Excellent, thanks. Blogging rocks.

  2. Big Jon Bully says:

    Man…say it ain’t so.

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