Self-portrait with numbers

Visual poet Geof Huth  lives and blogs in Schenectady, NY.  In 2010 he turned 50 and early in 2011 he sent me (via snail mail, on smooth white paper) a letter.  The letter is a poem; the poem is a celebration of life, a sort of self-portrait, using numbers.  Geof gave me permission to post it here.

                                                                         Geof Huth
                                                                          Schenectady NY
                                                                          10 January 2011

JoAnne Growney
Silver Spring, MD 20910

JoAnne,

     in a number
     of ways
     I am
     1

     in the least
     of ways
     I am
     0

     in the manner
     of the expression
     I am found out:
    
     1*50*365 + 8 + 231 = 18,489

     I move toward ∞
     but never to
     it or even close

     (I won a bet
     that some words
     were numbers too
     for I ate many
     at breakfast.)

     18,489  −  whatever I've forgotten  ⁄  whatever I've made up  ≈  49 +

     a Pentecost
     of memories
     (but not
     quite 50, so
     not quite me)

     Life
     and poems
     are made
     out of
     counting

     the pieces
     the lines
     the digits
     the spaces
    
     I saw
     since
     a child
     myself as

     1 body
     1 head
     1 nose
     (but 2
     nostrils)
     1 mouth
     1 penis
     (apologies)
     2 eyes
     2 ears
     2 hands
     2 legs
     2 feet
     10 fingers
     10 toes

     that's about
     as detailed
     as a body

     might be
     broken down
     for the pur-

     poses of
     counting
     and making

     sure each
     piece was
     in place

     I might
     be  ≤  well

     but I am
     ≥  productive

     I am
     wandering
     here

     in these
     words
     to you
    
     I am
     thinking
     not through

     but around
     a few
     thoughts

     in the
     vicinity
     of insight

     so I must
     admit
     to you

     that this
     letter
     ≠ a poem

     even though
     I mean it
     to be

     for
     a poem
     without numbers

     is a poem
     without
     meter

     or meaning
     or structure
     or the lack

     of structure
     that the best
     poems have

     by being
     completely
     controlled

     by an
     unnamed
     source

     such as
     how I am
     always 1.

          Geof