| Poem to Leibniz Monads have no windows by which anything could get out or come in. Poor darling monads who have no windows, poor windows, unkept by wishing. Say, maybe with the maenads we can set the monads on a date? A double blind encounter just might set these monads straight, as surely a healthy entelechy be not delicate. But, alas, the monads haven't got the gonads, so would nothing come of it. And my dear maenads too aren't really the proper retinue for a joyous sanity sought after. Thus go so many opportunities, missed like spots on a window. The finite power of the negative makes happiness seem a labor near to nearly infinite. |
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