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Gibberish

by Chris Sorrenti


I fall into conversation
from the mountaintops of poetry
high on the cheap
a fly to be swatted
on a tabletop dirty
with half eaten supper
asking myself
where are the hormones
of colorful language?
as I stumble and I stutter
I am gibberish
a tin man who’s had too much tea
feathered and tarred
with invisible ink
looking through the glass
of a planet sized aquarium
at the uncreative fish drowning
just beyond my front door
as they laugh
turn their heads
swim away from me

© 1984

800 hits as of December 2024

04/06/2017

Posted on 04/06/2017
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/06/17 at 11:04 PM

Absolutely love this piece! Loved "hormones of colorful language", "feathered and tarred with invisible ink",especially "looking through the glass of a planet sized aquarium", and that killer ending. Thanks!

Posted by George Hoerner on 04/08/17 at 01:28 AM

I suspect we all have similar feelings from time to time. I have stopped in the middle of writing something and say to myself as I throw the pen on the floor "you're such an a hole" and I'll stop writing for a week or a month. Then I forget what I am and start again.... until I remember. One day I'll just pull the plug or run into a tree. Take care... peace

Posted by Rob Littler on 04/08/17 at 05:43 PM

most fishermen scare the fish away, but you are the reef, and they run from the waves

Posted by Ken Harnisch on 04/09/17 at 04:30 PM

not gibberish at all, but a delightful soup to sip on a calm and warming Sunday.

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