What math does on the outside,
poetry does within.
It measures distances, isolates variables,
and calculates stubborn relationships.
In 'Short Letters To My Vanishing Friend',
I can be found freeing the otherwise so cemented symbols of the equation:
"Does curiosity plus effort equal wisdom?"
This book tries to trigger a renaissance of love.
For your chalk-like eyes, it's a blackboard.
For the haste of the world, it's a pause.
And so you slow down and shrink as you move through it,
confessing: "A year's worth of changes is being kept awake on its pages,
like seasons on a lucid calendar".