JACOB WRESTLES WITH AN ANGEL

by Heikki Huotari

I'm rehabilitated and or back by popular demand. If the extent to which one can know the imaginary part is inversely proportional to the extent to which one knows the real part, Waldo has the right to remain silent and confined. The plinth befits the birdbath by default. The obstacle is in the air. An incandescent inner life is warping my horizon. My periphery foreshortened, it's an hour later and I don't see that the minute hand has moved. If teleported or conveyed by time machine I'm all about philanthropy. To wait and not to waste a wish, heart strings, though zinging, are haphazardly attached. The butterfly in paradise is innocent but proven guilty. If the ether is outmoded I'll take comfort while I may. Unto the picosecond necessary and sufficient, when by particles bombarded, my insinuation goes the other way. Transcribe my shibboleth and I'll not ask for full employment. There are patriots abiding in this field. To criticize my flying-saucer driving, dial the number π.

Heikki Huotari attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. Since turning his attention from math to poetry in 2012 he has published poems in numerous journals and in five poetry collections and has won one book and two chapbook awards. Two new collections are in press. His Erdős number is two.