Birthword

i draw a line that begins at my navel and ends with the beginning of my language/it obeys          
no principles of geometry, no particular sequencing of points/consists, in equal parts, of atoms, questions, and propositions/a sort of umbilical cord and sort of a map and sort of a machine/the line is parturition/the line has a beginning and no end/no/the line wants to have no end/but sometimes its end sneaks up on it/sometimes the line breaks, and I can only allow speechlessness to enter/through my navel/sometimes, when the center of things gives out, the line simply does not exist, and my core cannot remember having any language at all