The Typographic Life




My thoughts and Plato's are equal here,

all alike steamrollered flat

on sixty pound laid text, with a little rag.


The world of mass is here diminished

by one dimension, the world of mind

fattened up by two.


Nobel laureate and hopeful sophomore poetizer

lie down together on a silken bed

Of Times New Roman, companionably exempt

from Time itself.


Beneath a sun-mottled canopy on Garamond Plain,

Lovers and fools consort, fashionably sporting

division headers in 14 point bold.


It's true I'm not as clever as once I was.

But set in Baskerville Old Style Ultra-Condensed Bold Italic 

Who's to know?

Who's to know?


Eternally still our best thinking lies

like TV dinners in the freezer

waiting only a mind's microwave

to bring the juices back.

(Turn once or twice while heating.)


Then, tasting truly the ephemeral essence of mind,

Make your choice.  Plato or me. 

Thank you very much.

       

                    (signed) Don Berry