Jabberers

I rise out of my depths with my language.
 You rise out of your depths with your language.

 Two tongues from the depths,
 Alike only as a yellow cat and a green parrot are alike,
 Fling their staccato tantalizations
 Into a wildcat jabber
 Over a gossamer web of unanswerables.

 The second and the third silence,
 Even the hundredth silence,
 Is better than no silence at all
 (Maybe this is a jabber too—are we at it again, you and I?)

 I rise out of my depths with my language.
 You rise out of your depths with your language.

 One thing there is much of; the name men call it by is time; into this gulf our syllabic pronunciamentos empty by the way rockets of fire curve and are gone on the night sky; into this gulf the jabberings go as the shower at a scissors grinder’s wheel....

Published in Cornhuskers

Tags:

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.