Father And Son Poem by Laurence Overmire

I’ve walked a wall around my father
Choosing angles from different sides
Point of reference at no return
And wondered where the intersection
Of two points on a line.

And diagrammed completely every sentence
Subject verb
Touching every principle that modifies a man.

We are the darknesses uncolored
Shapes that haven’t taken form
Our pseudo-self-dimensions are transparently inept
So here I am without conclusion
An inequality unborn:

There is no mathematic in the muddled myth of man.


(Previously published in Friction Magazine, Winter 2000, Vol 2, Issue 1)