In just a few lines, the poem pictures empty talk as a kind of sickness. The title, "Verbiage," means wordiness: language that fills space without saying much. The speaker seems worn out by it. Someone "needs his hearing so full of nothing," and the phrasing is sharp and a little baffled, as if the speaker can't understand why anyone would want their ears stuffed with noise that means nothing.
Then the tone turns more alarmed. "We are all infected" makes the chatter feel like something that spreads, and nobody escapes it, the speaker included. The final line, "quarantine the word in a hole," offers a drastic cure: shut language away, bury it, stop it from travelling. There's irony in that, since the speaker uses words to demand it. The mood is irritated, wry and a bit desperate, with a longing for silence. The short, clipped lines reinforce this by saying only what they need to.