Monday Poem


pi is perfection with a Pi
loose end

three point 1 four and so on
without pattern or closure

the precision of a mandala
drawn by a drunk on two martinis

not scribing wholeness merely
but thinking odd numbers

spouting them while rambling home
disheveled, irrational, unseemly

as the similar square root of 2
at the point of life and infinity


by Jim Culleny