I wake up in a meadow of math. Multiplication is everywhere and the bees dance in their polyphonic language. Here lies truth – sunbathing drunk in a dagguerotype a hundred and 30 years old. The ghosts of mistakes past plunder the pansies at the edge of the valley. Mountains are but vaults of information buried with the dead.
Miniature Moon 
Another gem! I love mathematics; numbers and equations are everywhere and beautiful.
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Thank you! I confess I am awful at math, but I find its poetic possibilities curious.
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