The Sky Is Winking At Me Tonight Poem by Stan Petrovich

It is as if there is something
I must not know:
I quickly dig up my dogeared Kant
And search for an explanation-
It is all thete, if one goes deeply...

Our senses are blundebusses at best.
There are hidden forms, gossamer wings,
Are tangential eaquations,
We stupidly overlook.

I think - no, I say - that they walk among us,
Tripingly in laughter, and point
Out our absurd predelictions.

One cant find much
humor in being laugher AT.
But I do.