Friday, April 14, 2017

npm17: numbers 9-14

So it turns out that a five-day road trip to visit colleges with international grandparents is more than enough balls to juggle; and while I have been entertaining the odd mathematical thought (and some even thoughts too), there has been no moment during which to actually write anything down.

This was not true during our last Spring Break trip with the intrepid "Dad and Mad"--Granddad Damian and Mamie Madeleine, who ordinarily are to be found in Lille, France, but who will throw in with any agenda we propose.  Last time we visited the Grand Canyon, and from that journey arose many promising drafts, such as this one, which I will count and then follow with another infinity poem.

April 9

[poem]
********************************

April 10

2 reaches down
out of an open window—
“one hand at the end of an arm
grasping another hand”
is what I wanted to write,
telling a story of clasped
human hands, a cliffhanger
story of two tangoing in thin air—

but looking now very carefully,
I notice that 2
does not in any obvious way
resemble “two”.

Perhaps 2 was originally more like
Z, a connected pair of horizontal lines,
and for speed in writing became curved
because after all
we do probably need 2 more often
than Z.

© HM 2017

Brahmi numerals (lower row) in India in the 1st century AD

 



(My brief research seems to corroborate this guess, and no, this formulation of the poem is not for young readers, but let’s let that go as a first draft.)

*********************************
April 11


they call it Horseshoe Falls
and try to count the amount
of water that passes here:
six million cubic feet per minute.
what does that even mean?

but I just want to wear
this wrap of water
this pounding cape of pour
this cloak of furious flow
I want to wear this glinting infinity
this neverending Niagara
of water

©HM 2017


It's now 8 am, so I'll post my link and keep updating all day, in case anyone wants to follow the progress of my progressive catch-up today.  The roundup on this very Good Friday indeed is with Doraine Bennett at Dori Reads.  And speaking of progress, the Progressive Poem is on receives its line 14 today from Jan Godown Annino, and what a cracker it is, about-facing from Margaret Simon's line 13.  The poem has taken on exciting extremes of temperature--slam!
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April 12: a special poem in honor of said Granddad's birthday, yet to come...

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 April 14

Feeling Kinda Dumb

Plus means addition:
putting some in!
Minus means subtraction:
taking some out!

Plus jump ahead!
Minus jump back!
Plus: more and more!
Minus: less and less!

It all makes sense:
higher, then lower, 
forward-back like a dance,
to the right to the right
totheright totheright totheright;
to the left to the left
totheleft totheleft totheleft.

It all makes perfect sense
until I have to "find the difference,"
find the difference between
4 and 13.

Um...the difference is 
that this number is 4
and that one's 13.

And it's pretty obvious to those of us who are even a little observant that 4 has only one digit and 13 has 2 digits, and the digits are not even alike in any way, and also four has only one syllable and is spelled with four letters, which is cool because it means 4, while thirteen has two syllables and eight letters, which doesn't match up in the same way at all, so that's another difference, and also 4 is even because two people can each have a partner for the dance, while thirteen is odd because six people can have partners and one person is left out of the dance.  So I can actually find quite a lot of differences between 4 and 13.

But none of them is 9.



©HM 2017

Done!


Monday, April 10, 2017

npm17 5+6+7

Catch-up time!  After an Armageddon of a week, I am finally on Spring Break and have a little time to relax and think mathematical thoughts again, and as a bonus, starting on Friday, I'm going to be posting a poem for two voices by one of my Diamond Miners each day.

The following are poems I had written earlier for Your Days Are Numbered, so I'm cheating a little, but I do actually want to catch up here!


April 5

The Extra Five Days


Three hundred sixty-five days in a year--
   any year--
   any year but a leap year
   a year like the year I was born

Three hundred sixty degrees in a circle--
   any circle--
   a circle the size of my eye
   a circle the size of the sun

     Five degrees or five days’ difference--
   or maybe six--
five nights of sleeping, five days of being--
doing and being and counting.           

 I         revolve around
     revolve around
     revolve around       and leap

but somehow the wheel of my year
stays five days ahead of a circle

 © HM 2016

April 6

Zero Counts Nothing

Zero is 
the great circle of being,
the all and the nothing, 
the everyone, the all of us.
Zero is 
the navel and the null,
the power and the nought.

Without zero
nothing could not be counted,
but only felt,
a hole in the fabric of things,
the holy gap that
no one can mend,
but everyone must mind.

© HM 2016 


April 7


      Three

3 is the magic number,

          bulging with possibilities.

                   One thing leads to

       another and then another.

Beginning middle end.

      3 has eyes to see and ears to hear.

                   3 purses its lips and blows 

             a kiss to the future.

Promise of wishes fulfilled.


© HM 2016
 
I'm also going to allow that this poem counts for April 8, and later today I'll be working on 9 and 10!


Tuesday, April 4, 2017

notional poetry math number 4

Image result for behind the clock



Tweeted today's math poem:
60 minutes, 24 hours, 7 days: counting how time is endlessly never enough

Saturday, April 1, 2017

npm17 number 1

art by Michael Albert ~ cerealism.com

I know you thought NPM stood for National Poetry Month, but here at my juicy little universe, it stands for Notional Poetry Math,
Notional means "existing only in theory or as a suggestion or idea," and that's what I have going here, folks.


I'll be attempting to post each day a new or reworked poem--for young readers--that addresses mathematical ideas, concepts, experiences and expressions.

I'm beginning with  = .








draft (c) HM 2017
               

let the wild rumpus begin! 2017 Progressive Poem starts here


Greetings to all and Happy National Poetry Month!

I have many reasons to love April, the very first being that, back in 1999, when offered a choice of birthdays for my overbaked bun in the oven, I selected April Fool's Day. (My thinking was that if you could choose April Fool's Day, then whyever would you prefer boring old March 31 or April 2?)

A quick calculation reveals that said bun turns 18 this year, is a senior in high school, and has been living in the throes of college application season for months now. (All results are in now; looks like she'll be able to go somewhere--phew.)

 
My Little April Fool is definitely no longer a child, and also not grown up exactly, but even so she has inspired the first line of our Progressive Poem for kids this year, which Irene so generously invited me to kick off.  (I believe that without being told as much, Irene knew that I needed some practice sending things unaccompanied out into the world.)

So here we go, with a line designed to speak to an audience of kids in the throes of any fever, spring or otherwise...let's keep it real, folks!

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        I'm fidget, friction, ragged edges--





And now it's on to my mate Tabatha up the road for Line 2.  I've given her a headstart by posting a little early, with Irene's blessing.  Let the wild rumpus begin!*


*Yes, I know that I'm misquoting Maurice here, but I have always felt that the word "start" in this line constitutes a missed rhythmic opportunity that I can't help but fix with "begin."  Apologies for wearing my poetic wolf suit.