In the turning I would spin
about
begin the magic
roundabout

twist the ropes and
in the twisting
I could cope

untangled I become the greater mess
hopelessness
like
homelessness
knows many houses
and
in those houses though there mansions be
I am adrift
admitting finally

which explains it totally?

It's as if I never understood what works of art that good men are

and by men I mean mankind which includes the female of the species

are we still **** Erectus?
do you not detect the irony?

derelicts and broken men lay anywhere
I see them everywhere

colluding with protruding avaricious eyes
I am wise to those ways.



and so like Whittington I turn,
returning to the origins
Darwin grins and says,
I told you so

I know
but because I doubted much like Thomas did
I saw it for myself and
felt the blood rush to my cheeks

He who seeks needs better sight than I and I have
blurry vision
except in 20/20 dreams.

as they say
It's all tickety boo until you
understand the reasons why

and I never knew.