The slaver’s cave is a hole in our bite
(imagine invaginating a gastrulation)
that bodies a passage, a passing through
(confound logic a composition)
all that abject shit, running on sand and stone,
(reject the best ideas left unsaid rightly)
saying whereof we cannot speak with our tut-tutting teeth
)mumble swallow cough(.
The rock of the cave wall, remember,
is the flesh of our mouths.
The tongue knows.
Re-presenting a substack 'note'.
Crossposted at whyweshould.loofs-samorzewski.com.