Due to the hard work of mathematician-poet Sarah Glaz, poetry has been an important part of recent BRIDGES-Math-Art Conferences. And, under her editing, a Bridges 2013 Poetry Anthology has been released, featuring poetry from these poets who participated in one or more of the three most recent BRIDGES conferences (Enschede, Netherlands, 2013; Towson, Maryland, 2012; Coimbra, Portugal, 2011).
Michael Bartholomew-Biggs
Tatiana Bonch-Osmolovskaya
Marion Deutsche Cohen
Carol Dorf
Francisco José Craveiro de Carvalho
Saeed Ghahramani
Sarah Glaz
Emily Grosholz
JoAnne Growney
Philip Holmes
Geof Huth
Alice Major
Kaz Maslanka
Deanna Nikaido
Eveline Pye
Stephanie Strickland
Amy Uyematsu
A Table of Contents for the BRIDGES anthology is available here. Also, I include below several poem-fragments that I hope will spur your interest in the collection; each of these chosen selections is a passage that considers the infinite.
Here is the opening stanza of "Plotting Hours of Daylight" by Carol Dorf:
Already there’s a perceptible change of light and darkness, the rush of time that speeds up around the equinox — and one doesn’t feel quite ready for the change. That’s how we always imagine infinite, as though we believe the proof that maps all the real numbers into the space between zero and one.
These lines are from the first stanza of "Reflections on the Transfinite" by Emily Grosholz:
The natural numbers, those deceptively well
Ordered, step-wise creatures, which appear
Transparent as they mount, but all in all
Among themselves are most unknowable.
Alice Major's poem, "Zeno's Paradox," opens with these lines:
We've solved the paradox.
Motion is possible. The arrow's flight ends
even if its fractions interlock
to infinity – half a distance, yet again
half, and half .… We know this series sums
to a finite thunk and shudder.
Statistician Eveline Pye closes her poem, "Numerical Landscape," with this:
. . . .. On my path,
a decision tree, so many branches spring
from its trunk, so many choices. Statistics
feels like poetry ― endless searching,
never-ending uncertainty.
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