From T.S. Eliot's J. Alfred Prufrock:

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

"That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all."

Besides all else, you are a poet of the modernist school: You, T.S. Eliot, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein, et al.