I am Pan Sapiens. I don't speak well,
And so I write. Some say I look like hell.
I think that's hard. I think I look like you.
Pan in, however—never mind the view:
You've seen it all your life, the diorama
Stinking with the crowd of us, from Rama-
Pithecus to poor Neanderthal,
Who's lost his lisp at last, and, standing tall
Peers like any fool into my eyes
Where once upon a time, a wild surmise…
Now, dip your quill into his pupils' ink:
It isn't how l look. It's if I think.