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.... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST THE FLOWER BOAT by ROBERT FROST SYMPATHY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO AN EARLY DAFFODIL; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG THREE SPRING NOTATIONS ON BIPEDS by CARL SANDBURG THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON |