Darwin gibbers Palare
Oh hell, tolerate the company of lunatics
and bitch and holler at my playing madman?
All logic masquerades as delusion. Decades later,
two and two make a number we can all count
if we count our legs, supple them, and our arms,
mischief-makers them and well designed for it.
Portraiture is my hobby and my hobby is a simple man.
All grammar is delusion where sense is senseless
math folding on itself driving an 1800s man insane.
Hack your wife and drill the neighbor boy, why not.
Wouldn’t you?, said the bully smacked up and drooling
how you and I, readers us, will imitate in our way.
Will do. All reckoning is psychosis, where the colors
paint up pretty in our eyes we once thought we knew.
Greeks drove themselves mad on delusion, and alcohol,
and little poppies they named one by one after children
they threw in the water. How deep, the delusion,
that man thought he was more than faces in a deluge.