Cover to Cover in Mumbles

I read your book cover to cover in mumbles,
A wild farrago of vocabulary,
Blind sweep of aimless talking, airy fairy
Nonsense of a tongue in haws and stumbles,
Spaced out by hollow verbiage and fumbles,
Dropped consonants, a spit-laden raspberry,
Insults hurled at the deaf constabulary
Of good grammar, gauche grieving, and grim grumbles.

You told us you knew everything you meant,
And I will not dispute with you, unclean
Though some of your connections must have been.
You smudge and obfuscate, the logic bent
And louche, like you. This chance is heaven-sent:
I ask, So what exactly did you mean?