Before words form
then fall, like rain
from the mind of a  writer
splattering a chaste page
There is no poem

Before the pieces
of someone's peculiar puzzle
are placed
precisely
on a page
There is no poem

Before the mind
of a reader
appreciates
something special
in a word salad
there is no poem

Before a reader
pretends to hear
sounds found
somewhere
between his ears
there is no poem