Poem: And Yet . . .

And Yet

          [To an Artist]

So few are Artists, really.
Many write just-so
                   (“pricksong”)
(like I say they should),
and yet
        they say nothing).

You flout the creed I shout
(An Artist I consider myself:
     I speak.);
and yet
        I must admit
you speak,
           and they do not.

Though Craftsmen may decide
to follow artists’ lines
    (my lines),
Art is there or not;
and yet,
         seeming lineless, you speak
    (my language).