Can you fix a thought

With but mere words?

Can you sample a vision,

Before it is thought?

Cry a thought without tears,

Whisper a word and not hear?

Such is the nonsense spread,

When dangling without a hook.

I, but naive to the world about,

Somehow dislocated in thought.

Experienced in the want for words,

But not for those I haven't heard.

Like a participle within a phrase,

Makes little sense when heard.

I, the master of all such sounds

That from my lips seems to abound.