Two by


Heikki Huotari





Go Around



In the past I had and in the future will again have options so expunge my record while I mix and match the heroes and the villains, stop half on half off the road and wave to the impatient, Go around. 


The blind advised to pick a card, pick any card, the truth has teeth, the teeth have clocks, the clocks are cleaned.  The legislature, up on girls’ athletics, bans unnatural advantage.  Friends and enemies are interchangeable on backwards day.


Switched at half life with an alter ego with a clue, I’m problem-solving not by adding but subtracting.  In my Skinner box I reconstrue two circumstances.  One is, those who do not care to individuate need not throw food. 


From graveyard shift or nosebleed seat they come out fighting blind. Would that they’d plan for ambience or cut to stasis, inscribe polygons on slips of tongue or find the works of Shakespeare in the decimal expansion of the number pi. 





Time Frame



As history is rewritten by the sole survivor, will the complex number on the circle of convergence be unspoken for or at least spoken well of?  No restoring force proportional to non-velocity or dislocation, horses go by on all fours. 


What I deny my tiny night light frightens as they may be silhouettes of only Abraham as the obscenity is equal to the letter of some obscure law. 


One animal is washed then combed then shown then no two men are islands simultaneously.  To one help and to one hindrance is this minute on the way. 









Heikki Huotari attended a one-room school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower.  Since retiring from academia/mathematics he has published poems in numerous literary journals including Pleiades, Spillway, the American Journal of Poetry and Willow Springs and in five collections. 



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