Truth is on the March Double-Quick
Now that we
know, because we have seen it, filmed
underwater
and on the telly, that fish use tools,
and that
some others leap up to capture birds,
what do we
make of all the old adages, homo
faber, creature that talks? Boundaries break,
so that
home truths become uncanny. Truth
be damned,
or some other cliché, you might say:
if news is
fake, then why not science or maths?
Planets are
not planets, moons not moons, the sky’s
Mysteries
are more mysterious than ever, words
Absurd that
try to capture them in thought.
Time
perhaps to lay Galileo to rest
And send
old Newton packing to an asylum,
Picking
apples as they fall. Silence the dumb.
Super-powered
micro-cosmology or sport
Of nature,
music of the spheres—what ought
We think
today that we could not ponder then?
I am of the
old school, believe Attenborough
And Sagan
were elected from a rotten borough.
What comes
together now in rhyme, Mugabe
Gone with
the wind, don’t give a damn, maybe?
Maybe
not. Gabby Hays knew best, buckaroo.
Always did,
always will, one, two, buckle my shoe.