Ghosts of Babel
Too many ghosts of Babel
Choke the air
I've sucked into my lungs.
These ponderous false cognates
Have teeth of spears and arrows,
And all this speaking
Has shredded the inside of my mouth;
Where do you sheath the sharpened tongue?
No wonder some monks
Clip that fleshy knife out
In truth or in avowed effigy.
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Comments
Apr 5 2009
Um, so you are saying shut up?
Apr 5 2009
yes, yes i'm very sure he is
Apr 20 2009
I remember reading this when you first posted it. I absolutely love the Babel imagery, as I do in any works that feature it. It vaguely reminds me of a Yeats poem -- just the first stanza being from 'your' perspective, and the last being a bit of snark.
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