The following poem is the result of a college assignment in which each student was given a page from an encyclopedia and told to make a poem. All words except pronouns and prepositions appeared on one page, and were rearranged to the below.
My dry land of Babel depends on
Black soil and a mixed language:
Not suited for everyday purposes, the Rosetta stone
Of your black eyebrows.
There are 24 symbols for consonants,
The professional army of denial:
I face North to catch the cooling winds.
I must write rapidly, an obscuring
Hieratic orchard,
Both for beauty and protection.
Outline me in green paint with
The words of the God but remember
That vessels do not write vowels.
Trap the water over the cell-like rooms,
Gypsum and phosphate, and float me out.