You can’t be a good mathematician, a scientist, if you can’t see wonder everywhere around you.
Ken Ono
This is for he with two eyepatches and beautiful numbers.
0 Is the sparkle of a frozen lake In that white silence of winter. 1, a single blade of grass Upright in bare expanse, Towards the blazing golden sun With the shine of petrichor; 2, dancing hands upon the piano Soothing smashing screaming— I hoped, at first, I’d Have a number for Every little stanza: That’d be very Mathematical I thought. But then I thought Of 100: Diamond dew on daisy dawn And realized that Well I’m not writing 100 stanzas, Thank you very much. i, by and by, is the silent thump Of an ic icl e falling into snow (Walking through a darkened land Silent crashes all around Imagined terrors creeping ‘round Like burglars in the night.) e is fireflies Flickering to life in the Setting sun, doubling And doubling and doubling Some more. 1/9 is the road From Reno to Las Vegas And the game of Desert Bus Racking up points one by one, 8 hours by 8 hours. π is a sports game and the (Sweltering, stinking, searing) Press of sweaty noisy fans, Of greasy hot dogs And doughy corn dogs From the overpriced concession stand; Company and hype in one classic clump. φ is a golden sea From end to gleaming end Of sunflowers and buttercups and daisies bright. (iπ)^(e) is ice cream splatters on concrete And the look on a little girl’s face The shrill scream in her voice As she stares at her empty cone. Collatz is pointe shoes Graceful (bloody) beautiful (pain) packaged in pink Wrapped in ribbon and perfect tulle And giggling tinkling Sugar Spun Sprites. 1000, cresting waves of roiling forest, 10000, the rush of the wind from a parachute, 1000000, sea all around from the mast of a ship . . I could go on for E t e r n i t y (until I n f i n i t y) About these colors and paintings That cannot be seen.
I recently went to a talk by Ken Ono about “The Man Who Knew Infinity” and Ramanujan. During the Q&A, someone with synesthesia described 100 as daisies and dew, and it was so beautiful I felt I had to write about it. Someone with synesthesia asked about it during the Q&A, talking about dew on daisies and 100. I thought that was beautiful, so I wrote this poem.