When I Fever Dream it is in Mathematics [of that you can be sure]

 

cold sweat slapped on my body as if carelessly

but with

paradoxical studied abandon by a pastry brush

a pastry brush of

demented purpose and I have solved

issues of mathematical complexity

with the mental agility of a bat flying radar-down

cruising with eyes alone

for a laugh

then there is

my propensity for influenza-induced equational dexterity

a novel way to solving brain aching conundrums such as

inter-dimensional matter transference well well well

I know how now yes I do

of that you can be sure

I worked it out in my fever it’s all down to a certain number

all you’ve got to do is bracket it

and

do the good old

( )

and square it by a -3

wish though

I could remember the

number in the

brackets

she was right I should at all times keep my trusty

Blackpool Zoo Pen and Notebook handy on the bedside table

I have only myself to blame and now to the other

dream

I can see a house in the distance it’s a big bugger

a bit ramshackle but the equations hold together

the gutters are integers the chimney is a cosine

and the caretaker a fraction of the man I always wanted to be

there he is tending the garden of prime numbers but

the green house, the one

full of near-extinct logarithms has had most

of its glass panes broken but that is another issue

another story for another lifetime

and my ancestors are stood there in front of the house

they are beckoning me encouraging me

and all that stands between my good self and my ancestors are

a large number of topiary figures

some shaped like small birds ones a wren

defo [and a neat little wooden gate swings]

the rest the rest they are an assortment of jungle animals

an elephant laurel bush a lion hawthorn

a large alligator

privet

and I look and look and think it all looks like too much effort

and then

WAKE UP

Raise a flag of vengeful calculus

and

radiate.