Language, in this short poem, seems to break down just when the speaker needs it most. It begins at the very start of speech: the first word is "oh," a sound closer to a gasp than a statement. Then comes "you," as if the speaker's first real act of language was to turn toward another person. But the thought stops there, unfinished, and the next lines ask whether anything is "now any better."
The speaker's mind is "full / and vexed," crowded and irritated, with too much inside and no clean way to get it out. The ending is the bleakest part. Angry words "go out / in a dead mouth," an image that suggests speech with no life or hearing behind it, words spoken into silence or by someone emptied out.
The poem's mood is frustrated and hollow. Judging by the title, the speaker is tracing how words begin and how they can fail, and the broken, sparse lines make that failure felt.