e is a number

transcendental, like pi,

head aflame, opaque

as an integer –

beyond the decimal point,

the remainder shudders

infinitely narrowing, knowing

the equilibria with darkness.
or else, we come to comprehending

the gist of an enumerated word,

note its cadence. but unable

to locate its particular accent, we concede

approximations

(draw rough spirals,

various hyperbola,

on grid paper, on innumerable

axes for avoiding embarrassment).
we go on and graph the fluttering,

shadowy codes of Babel,

computing towers of their undefined minutiae

reverberating through something extra-

                                                             sensory,

tensions satisfying our equations.