Here is a little something to make one think.
Fibonacci’s DrudenfussMix up the words, mix up the day.
Discover all art corrupts the play.
From A to B to make a C.
And yet, in stillness lost, perceive
Bodily proportions and artists agree.
Add sneezewort to the myth of old,
Watch Mephistopeles step in circle bold.
Is it the ratio we fear?
Or could an endless knot disappear
When placed upon the sanctum’s rear?
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Feel free to reply to any comment by clicking the "Reply" button.I think there are interesting ideas in the poem that I don't understand. I feel it's something like the Copernican/Newtonian mathematical view of how the universe works making the old 'arts' obsolete. The poet seems to include the clergy as these artists of old and might be asking if mathematical complexities can conveniently disappear if located up the clergyman's ass. Any help would be great!
brentan
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Jan 28, 2020
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