Know No Snow Blows So Slow

I love the lush stupidity of language,
the way meaning and nonsense bump up and crowd
one another like round twins in wonderland,

the profoundest concepts shouldering dumb sounds
like pranksters, "Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean?"
when of course none of them know what they mean, none,

while the dimmest, smallest phonemes, packed like clams
into narrow beds together somehow make
strange sense from mnemonic chants, from baby poems

dreamed up crooning soothing baby human coos,
"Whose got the pinkiest pinky toes? You do. . . .
Whose low nose knows no snows blow so slow? Yours does. . . ."