Erewhon

If nowhere is the mother of creation

Then I‘m sure to go in search of her tonight

To no avail

I‘ll go wander yonder, aimlessly,

avoiding explanations, I‘ll go chasing towers, giants 

out of spite,

As my travail

When I point out inconsistencies, 

My sole reply is riddles three

Like how to fix the world and make it right

And never fail

And how I‘d call this pictured place

won‘t respond in ready-mades

I still abide by number two

Don‘t worship idols

At the zoo

They‘re all for sale

And never fail