To wit, I ramble
Sometimes my words come pouring out
without me knowing why
like a dog that howls all night
at a moonless sky.
And when I try to stop their flow
by shutting up my trap,
they build and bang and multiply
til I can’t hold them back.
It’s like an endless music
that plays without a tune:
some lyrics that we all heard wrong
writ by a blathering loon.