The Language of Poetry

I don’t know that poetry has a language before written? I think not: Sort of like trying to capture a moonbeam, by some mystic attraction bending it our way with no guarantee whether absorption or fly-by-- a writer like a big sponge when juices flowing the weight of creation pressing down squeezing out till a steady squirt... I mean, I may sit down to write with an idea in mind, or urge or itch some place which I proceed to scratch till the page erupts like a bloody pimple…. Can poetry be taught? Maybe the basics like a pan and spoon for the future cook or a helpful saddle for the would-be jockey, but with brave unbridled poetry more like grasping a wild Mount’s mane holding on for life hoping to end up if too perilous a place with, at the least, a sane way back….