He wrote equations in which clouds
equaled the world,
in which a bird
represented the unknown,
the resolution of which
opened up a great secret.

In his equations were many
missing quantities,
one often had to solve for
two—or more—unknowns.

But he always provided
just enough information
in his inscrutable calculations,
in his notations like a frog's script,
in his numbers trembling
to the left and right of the equals-sign,
as if caught in a tide,

that you could arrive at the answer,
or, at least, arrive at AN answer,
because you heard his numbers calling,
number two with its green tone,
nine was cardinal red,
and if you simply called
his number,
he
was not afraid to
answer.

                                    August 11, 2007