For Brian Strand
You would not know if you were not told
What melody the cardinal numbers hold
And he toiling, an haiga, among them
Change the budgetary balance of time's gem
Balancing the ledger of his soul in songs
I singing through the accounts he keeps
Find no deficit, and so to his page belongs
A tribute for knowledge each one reaps
O teacher of the poeima, and forms
Strange and delicious as an exotic dancer's
Tongue, beyond tame artistic norms
I heave you this wreath of words, answers
Catalogue against the name Brian.
Soup poet, friend, and humble humanitarian.
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