If you want a “u,” you strike
the “u” key, not the “i,” the “b,”
or the “c.” None of us doubtsthe design. It’s obvious to all
who lack the genius to createan algorithm of such majesty
and simplicity. If you want
sherbet, fruit is the only flavorwhether it’s a scoop of sunset,
cloud, winter surf, or sunrise.Everybody knows the rules,
and nobody needs to tell you
there are six and a half billionof us, and each has only one
single soulmate. We all knowthe truth. Conspicuous misery
born even in our naked numbers
moves none of us to questionthe fact. It’s a rule like a ruler,
narrow, straight, stiff, wooden,useful to measure our decline
in inches, the shuffle of our feet,
and the trim hedges of our yards.
39.0: JACKPOT!
Guest poetry editor: Samuel Wagan WatsonRelease date: 1 August 2012
Index of poems
Featured artist: Queenie Chan
Very fine, although I’m glad I’ve never been good at numbers.