Now at an oblique intersection I'll be innocently standing by and if a crime should be committed I'll be one of twenty people who saw nothing. Later, when five roots of unity are equally distributed around a circle in a complex plane I'll ask, Is there a doctor in the house, Is there a doctor in the house or is it me?
Heikki Huotari is a retired professor of mathematics. In a past century, he attended a one-room country school and spent summers on a forest-fire lookout tower. His poems appear in several journals, recently in Diagram and Puerto del Sol, and he's the winner of the 2016 Gambling the Aisle chapbook contest.
speaking ovarian cancer
Notes for a Poem about News
The Wedding of Psyche
The Vine of the Dead
A The Is The The Is The A
by Lila Zemborain
KJ Hannah Greenberg
Gators Packed Like Multinationals
Inside the Roche Limit
Because an Island is Encouragement