“You’re the one outside, said the voice of my language.” Yes!
Mid-October song
It was late for a visit. I opened the door
And outside was standing my own language.
My old friend had traveled places I had not been.
Well don’t be a stranger I said. Come in.
You’re the one outside, said the voice of my language.
And I was, and I came on in, not sorry I was late.
O at the Edges 
This tied my brain in a knot, but the last line made me laugh out loud 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
It did the same to me!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Btw, didn’t Lacan say something to the effect that we think we’re consciously using language as our tool but language is actually the shape and substance of our unconscious, controlling us more than we control it? Well, whether he said it or not, your poem gave me a concrete image of it 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
I only wish I’d written the poem. Jeff Schwaner is the guilty party!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Damn Jeff Schwaner!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ve said that frequently!
LikeLiked by 1 person