The Emotional Condom of the World

I heard we grew our great brains by eating meat
and, needing to spread information about it,
about farming, hunting, killing, eating things
developed words for birds that sing with their wings...
now, the pre-verbal, the thought-pattern, translated
into words, via the mechanics of meaning, is diluted.
Language is the emotional condom of the world,
into which we are all so traumatically hurled.
One day we may learn to eat language, but for now
I’ll settle for the rump of the local farmer’s cow.

John F B Tucker

 
If you have any thoughts on this poem, John F.B. Tucker would be pleased to hear them.