<HTML><FONT FACE=arial,helvetica><HTML><FONT COLOR="#000000" FACE="Geneva" FAMILY="SANSSERIF" SIZE="2">Dear Ralph,<BR>
<BR>
Speaking of poems in your pocket: I was asleep and awakened thinking that you should have some futuristic poems for your journey. Thus, the following poems from the Space Child's Mother Goose by Frederick Winsor (1958) might be appropriate, perhaps one for each week:<BR>
<BR>
Probable-Possible, my black hen,<BR>
She lays eggs in the Relative When.<BR>
She doesn't lay eggs in the Positive Now<BR>
Because she's unable to Postulate How.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Little Miss Muffet<BR>
Sits on her tuffet<BR>
In a nonchalant sort of way,<BR>
With her force field around her<BR>
The spider, the bounder,<BR>
Is not in the picture today.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Little Bo-Peep<BR>
Has lost her sheep,<BR>
The radar has failed to find them.<BR>
They'll all, face to face,<BR>
Meet in parallel space,<BR>
Preceding their leaders behind them.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Three jolly sailors from Blaydon-on-Tyne<BR>
They went to sea in a bottle by Klein.<BR>
Since the sea was entirely inside the hull<BR>
The scenery seen was exceedingly dull.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Plus-que-Possble, ma poule noire,<BR>
Elle pond ses oeufs dans le Quand-Provisoire.<BR>
Elle ne pond point dans une pe'riode sure<BR>
Car l'expe'rience serait bien trop dure.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Flappity, Floppity, Flip!<BR>
The Mouse on the Mobius Strip.<BR>
The Strip revolved,<BR>
The Mouse dissolved<BR>
In a chronodimensional skip.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Little Jack Horner<BR>
Sits in a corner<BR>
Extracting cube roots to infinity,<BR>
An assignment for boys<BR>
That will minimize noise<BR>
And produce a more peaceful vicinity.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Moglich-Warscheinlich, mein' Schwartzhenn',<BR>
Legt ihr Ei in das Relativwenn.<BR>
Sie legt keine Eier ins Positivdann<BR>
Weil sie postulieren nun einmal nicht kann.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
(From the Greek)<BR>
I have a pet hen who name is Probable. She lays eggs in concept, being a sophist-bird.<BR>
But not in reality at all; those would be inferior eggs; for thought is superior to reality.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Hey Diddle Diddle<BR>
Distribute the Middle<BR>
The Premise controls the Conclusion<BR>
The Disjunctive affirms<BR>
That the Diet of Worms<BR>
Is a Borbetomagic confusion.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Taffy was a Welshman,<BR>
Taffy was a thief.<BR>
Taffy's little grandson <BR>
Teleplunders beef.<BR>
<BR>
Taffy's little grandson<BR>
Cymric superlooter,<BR>
Looks angelic riding <BR>
His teledriven scooter.<BR>
<BR>
Taffy's little grandson<BR>
Never leaves the village,<BR>
Stays at home in comfort<BR>
committing telepillage.<BR>
<BR>
Taffy's little grandson,<BR>
Practicing psionics,<BR>
Quite surpasses Grandpa's<BR>
Obsolete kleptonics.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Titus FitzImmeter<BR>
Said, "The Planimeter<BR>
Agoragraphs a vicinity."<BR>
Herein he was right,<BR>
But he scarcely shed light<BR>
On the Circular Points at Infinity.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Hark, hark,<BR>
A static spark,<BR>
The tape is wound around<BR>
So some baboon<BR>
Can croon his tune<BR>
In Stereophonic Sound.<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Embryonic, zoonic,<BR>
Tectonic, cyclonic,<BR>
We humans are never humane.<BR>
Explosion, erosion,<BR>
Corrosion, implosion---<BR>
And back into Chaos again!<BR>
<BR>
<BR>
Matago ya kuku mweusi, nadhani,<BR>
Ni mbali, mbele au nyuma;<BR>
Haikuta mayai kuku huku au sasa---<BR>
ni dwa hivi haipatikani.<BR>
<BR>
(I suspect that the egg-laying locales of the black hen<BR>
Are far away in-front-or-behind in-either-time-or-space;<BR>
She doesn't lay eggs here on this very spot or now---<BR>
Because of this eggs are not obtainable.)<BR>
<BR>
Bon Voyage', Ralph. You are doing what I have dreamed of doing. May it be more than your highest hopes.<BR>
<BR>
Sincerely,<BR>
<BR>
Paul Everett<BR>
</FONT><FONT COLOR="#000000" FACE="Geneva" FAMILY="SANSSERIF" SIZE="2"></FONT></HTML>
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