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Pope in his grotto
It's clever, but is it art?
(This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.)
Sandman: Morpheus and pigeons
If that's the word I'm after.
Piet Hein

Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,
  and you're hampered by not having any,
the best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find,
  is simply by spinning a penny.
No -- not so that chance shall decide the affair
  while you're passively standing there moping;
but the moment the penny is up in the air,
  you suddenly know what you're hoping.
Oh, quite.

So. Attempting to participate in April Poetry Month just now, when I barely have enough extra minutes in the day to even look at LJ as it is, is possibly the stupidest idea I've ever had. But at least I'm off to a recantable start: if I fail to post any more poems for the whole rest of the month, I can always just say, "April Fools!"

As to the above, it is, I think, my favorite of Piet Hein's grooks, at least from the collection to which hamsterwoman introduced me (they're all brilliant -- go have a look). I must have died laughing the first time I read it, because oh, how frequently guilty I am of pretending to let chance have its way, and really doing exactly what I didn't know I intended to do all along. "Was that a fair flip?" "I think this coin is topheavy." "How about two out of three?"

A weaker man might be moved to re-examine his faith, if in nothing else at least in the law of probability...
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