The Cantor Poem


Here’s the latest in my series of love poems a la the Great Philosophers.  Cantor was technically a mathematician, of course, but apparently he regarded himself as more of a philosopher.  Anyway…



In the house we once shared

There were old wooden stairs

On which we etched a



It symbolized, you said,

The entanglement of our fates.


But even then, I suppose,

In moments of repose,

My happiness was limited by

This one recurring thought:


Where the infinite resides, we do not.

Wooden stairs inevitably turn to rot.



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2 Responses to The Cantor Poem

  1. Nates says:

    I really like this one, David.

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