Meta-language,language and the babble

Sometimes when we speak, although it’s words
They are at the level  of the screams of birds
Because it’s all in words don’t mean it’s language
Remember all that screaming does minds damage

Words are truly signs and symbols perfect
But what they point to   may have its own defects
The imaginary, wordless  and imperfect
The real in words resigned to own  the phallic.

Symbols are deep wells   with built in buckets
We had one but someone must have struck it
Some thought it was the call  to evening worship
While rabbits bored holes through my mother’s turnips

Meta-language,language and the babble
Let’s decide we all are more than rabble


About Katherine

I like art, poetry,history, literature,cooking,doing nothing to music.And conversation
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