Wise Until He Opened His Mouth Poem by Artchil Daug

The wisest of men learned not
to speak,
that art, a despicable one, yet still
the wires that connect the mind,
foolish mind, creative mind, lonesome
happiness flowing in the strings
of imagination, no man is an island
to other minds, happy thoughts, sad
memories, the continuous creation
of skyscrapers and bridges,
the transcendent signified
that turned to words and signs
in the scaffold
of a longing to satisfy
the threads on the web of interaction,
limited in scope,
limited in limitation,
turning wisdom,
a formation of clay,
easily reformed, remodeled, remolded
to the fashion of unwise speech.