by Gideon Burton
Is reason male? Spock-logical and sure?
Secure within its calculations cold
and bold? Each measured premise never lures
the passions: algorithmic, I am told.
Machinery of thought, the valid check
on wild distractions fertile in our minds.
What comfort: in our world we may expect
behavior rigorously constant! Blind
to bias: major, minor premise, done.
Oh, I have felt this warm seductress draw
from me conclusions that have drugged and stunned
me with their elegance, no fault no flaw
no way this opiate goes out of season:
our lust for order, dressed in slinky reason.
Photo: flicker - exper
