Heikki Huotari wrote their first poem the morning after the major died in the adjacent bed. Since retiring from academia/mathematics they've published more than 500 poems in literary journals, including Pleiades, Florida Review and The Journal, and in six chapbooks and six collections. They have won one book prize (Star 82 Press) and two chapbook prizes (Gambling The Aisle and Survision Press). Their Erdős number is two.
Typically we'd manifest as carnivores while strewing tools of long forgotten and or yet to be initiated trades. We'd hold our breath and pass the polygraph and so would you. If in the velodrome we'd wail and gnash, at home we wouldn't have to. Every celebration has a cause for its existence, i.e., celebrations don't just happen, i.e., each is caused by some one or some thing. As codependent as a service dog is on its astronaut, I'm sleeping in an umbra, and as accurately as ordained. The broken bottle is half full. As I'm a once and future optimist, an astral body and a useful fool, so from the circle of convergence to the circle of diversity I'm teleporting a miscellany of quantum states, e.g., the ennui of an octopus, e.g., the eight legs of a crow. One paints oneself into a corner, one clings to a cliff and subsequently situational awareness is imagination's bane. The ratio of the height of the human pyramid to the base of the human pyramid is constant, is as constant in New Jersey as it is in Florida, world without end, amen.
As the Negation Variation series got under way I was more than usually aware of my affinity for the sentiments of Sportin' Life (who sang It Ain't Necessarily So) and I realized that there's fun and profit in making light of the status quo, that variation is a kind of negation (and vice versa) and that the boundary between ridicule and worship is necessarily blurred.