Inebriated evergreens have busted the sky with all its aircraft and inhabitants.
The feeling of turning into serpents makes them queasy,
The idea of sticking to earth makes them laugh.
Language is just a perversion of the bark.



My retired aunt is the author of the sky.
She talks to the rabbits in the backyard every afternoon, but still
Is too young to speak English properly.
She used to sell dental floss on Venus.
All her shoes are expensive, but there is never
Any ground between the heels.


There is no difference between
Sound, time and glass for a wasp.
Language is treating everyone fine
Except for the human race, but
Insects should spend some fuss over
The absence of flowers.


when i donated to the construction of the tower of babel
it was supposed to be transparent
invisible to god and more importantly to dogs
now they have pissed all over the plain brick walls
and the dusty shoes of the poor pundits that sit at the entrance
incessantly arguing whether the creatures
are barking the same language or not

i didn’t give them much money anyway
next time i’ll donate to the local noise station

{from the comments on execution}


Fish talk of the Tower of Babel all the time.
Before you kiss the scales, they look for
Privacy outside the ponds and lakes,
Like people that jump out of the windows
And count the eyes gaping at them
Before they hit the ground and stick to the soles.
Their god is a monster, but even he
Takes pity on them and gives each one
A personal language to hide their thoughts.

{from the comments on behind}