Trappings of a well ordered mind
Are oft strange to the jaded eyes
Of tourists, you know the kind,
Who've seen it all and rationalize
At once and away obscure reality.

Such as a desk deluged with what
May only be useless arrays of debris,
Papers stacked haphazardly and not
The only way wise people surely seek
To keep track of things week to week.

While one only calls a duck a duck
That quacks and purely acts the part,
A cluttered desk can quaintly deceive
An onlooker who's oddly struck,
Who can't believe order thrives amuck.

For what can be said of ordered minds
Which make sense from disorder,
Perhaps the kind of rare genius lurking,
Hiding beneath the clearly apparent mess
Most people consider a cluttered desk.