If you are shocked by flocks of foxes,
Deterred by a herd of birds,
Never fear, it’s quite clear
You can be coerced by words.
Crowds of clouds, schools of fools
Probably screw up the rules,
Never mind about ghouls,
Grouping them disrupts their cools.
Rags, we know, do well in bags,
Religions have their orthodoxies,
Normally packed up in boxes,
And centipedes with lots of legs
Are shipped in bottles, jars or kegs.
Ideas move in disciplines,
Impulses shift alone.
Fears can multiply most surely
By radio or telephone.
What causes things to scatter
Or, perhaps, to clump
And what we name them may matter,
Be obvious or stump.
Classes labeling the masses
Are, of course, selective.
Questions arise, with some surmise.
Are they connective or defective?
Never mind, it’s mind that binds.
We favor generalities.
We whim their names in mental games
With uniques and pluralities.