What is language?
And when,
Why, how, will it end?
When will it allow me
To say what must be said?
Where, if not to paper, do
These words and thoughts go?
And do please tell me
How do feelings, senses
Translate into shapes and lines?
Our teeth have sharpened themselves.
Now our word can cut itself
To be an easier feed.
We shall feast on the word.
I will stuff you with it,
You will shove spoonfuls into my mouth.
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