‘From Conjecture to Confirmation,’ he titled his section,
Proudly, swimmingly, in a state of flow. 
Out there the grass grew unchallenged, out there he could not
Use his familiar scalpels to dissect sociality. 
When inequalities fail, cast the problem into topology, he was taught,
Taught taught taught. And now he squats low
Over a desk of cocobolo, rasping amours 
To Ricci flows. Bring her back, master. Bring
Her back, Cantor, and I will cut the knot 
You never could. When the moon rose that hillside with us,
And you turned back to examine whence we came
In the mercurial torchlight, my little daemon tickled
And I forgot how to prove the theorem of Pappas for the first time.