I want to poke around inside the brain, unroll the wrinkled cortex into a flat, creased sponge and map anger’s coordinates.
She grants me the ability to breathe underwater in this year of oceans.
A farmer named Amadou took him into a millet field to see a tree that was possessed.
She’s staring dreamily at the bronze figures, life-size, in full gallop, cascading from their marble pedestal.
Einstein said, 'Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.'
