[ToC]

 

OUR NEW MEASURES

Daniel Bosch

 

 

for Lisa

My cord ounce.
Your byte inch.
My fathom pound.
Your rad stitch.

My yard decibel.
Your jigger therm.
My slice quarter-gill.
Your carat stem.

My hit teaspoon.
Your six-pack cell.
My furlong joule.
Your column mole.

My acre anapest.
Your staff dram.
Your scruple pipe.
My knot gram.

Your hectare syllable.                                  
My half-tun click.
Our light-year bit.
My roentgen three-point fall.

        


 

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"Our New Measures" began in bemusement at compound units commonly used in some sciences (e.g. "foot pounds," which measure torque) that led to my attempt to come up new compound units bringing together measures that are usually not so close (e.g., in the final stanza, a roentgen is a unit of radiation and when a wrestler scores a three-point fall, we get a sense of how near the opponent was to being pinned.) Suddenly I was writing a love poem, and it is dedicated to my beloved Lisa Lee, whose fantastic ekphrastic poem regarding a bookplate from an anatomy text appears in [DIAGRAM 4.4].