When I was six I
was orphaned by mathematics.
I studied hard, but
my father did not come back
until college, when he
became my math advisor.
For five years he was my father again.
Then, when I finished my degree, he said
he was so proud of me, and I left
and we've spoken not a half hours worth
of words since then.
But still
he is emailing me his research, his formulas,
and they say, "I do not know how
to talk to you, but I do know how
to create a language of numbers
that describes the ways in which
the two of us have failed
to behave like human beings."
He sends me the mathematics
of naturally occuring networks.
This is like my poem: it says
that connection is possible,
that connection is worth our curiousity.
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