Thursday, May 14, 2015


Every one is infinitely happy in every one, every one therefore is as many times infinitely happy as there are happy persons. What is the equation for “many times infinitely”: sideways eight set sideways? A page of math reminds me what dementia is. You could empty my bank account while I stared at symbols. Something about billiard balls. It's all in the angle you take, this question of happiness. In Kathmandu the butcher re-opens for business, though he doesn't trust his building. The mayor has canceled sweeps in Kaka`ako because they don't work. “Work” means the homeless do their unemployment elsewhere. A minister who lives on the streets has to take weeks off to sleep and re-gain her strength. Yet we hear the word “vacation” for all they don't do. My students said the hardest assignment was to do nothing for 10 minutes a day. Nothing is a luxury. I asked him what happiness is, and he wondered that I didn't know.

--13 May 2015

1 comment:

Karen said...

Ah!!! An infinity poem. I must have been channeling you when I wrote mine. I love this & hear what's going on in Hawaii & found this:
... & think yes, of course the homeless are normalizing the situation, because otherwise how to face every new day?

What a great ending to this poem...