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.