there's a false reading on the little screen
heat of deep summer one the edge of cold
outside the sky is deep blue and serene
i sit in here look at papers and feel old
a simple statement makes me almost gasp
more common are the misstatements of fact
the joyous disregard of sense the rasp
of bad ideas uttered without the least tact
outside the sun is bright the local cat
has come by on his walk and sniffed around
my mind is driven mad by the insistence that
any idea works any structure must be sound
so back to the task back to the siberian mines
to see if any sense is lying between the lines
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