Anthony Burgess

With eebroos and hortsnoggle
he has released wild language in me.
Brewed from source it gurgles up through fissures,
elemental but cobbled, like wooden teeth
in a bracket of mouth.

Though we have no ears, still
it must spew forth, just for the out of it.
The in too explosive to hold
behind cranium and glassies.
What spontaneous rupture
Oxford and Webster create
in the hegemonies
of a mouthy locutus.