

CountingCountingCounting
There's no single part to consider, Not any one thing,
But all of it, all of it, beads on a string
Count them slipping through semesters.
Pressed dry like flowers, stacked like blocks In a grubby pre-school playhouse, numbered one to four Five, six now, only forty-seven more.
Like a doll I drag through dust It's a prattling rhyme
I won't shut up about it, and I add to it all the time
One to give you Pandora's box With a smile and a kiss and a key Two to wake you up again So you'll be prepared for Three  


OwenFibonacci Sequence: ÖwenOwen
Liquid
Crystal
Display piece.
His exhausted ledger
His cinnamon tea ice sculpture
Dear director spending three hours on building a way to shut in dark.
He dreams up his boxes to stack them in rows, to track them, traverse them, pine resin hes proud of, cloying.


Maple ManMaple ManMaple Man
Brown sugar wood smoke hair
Strand bed stand
Maple man He has books on religion.
His drum is always in his hand on his knee by his chin Hell lose himself to thunder he will he will he will Roll the bitty beats Hold it like a pen running up and back again against
The grain of the rain it sits at his window but Cant cross the heater Youre a heater I told him, wrought in Soft skin Begin again. Okay, and Slightly Stoopid Sunshine Soon Beatles fan, our maple man, Dont you know its going to be all
--
RAH RAH RAH
--
"Come...dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly."-Dr. Manhattan
haha, thanks xD
--
Beauty in the Mathiverse is, of course, an acquired taste.
--Flatterland by Ian Stewart
My POVRay works, past present and future, are dedicated to Peter Murray. Rest in peace, dear h'rasht.
--
Battlecruiser Operational
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