"How dost thou versify?"
I prosodize as I believe:
barely, lightly, persistently.
"And what hast thou done, ever, for Erato?"
Nothing. I've avaunted no gardes,
preached no revivals, made no rules.
"What elevates thy language?"
I compose in the middle way,
A puttanesca, rich and plain.
"Activist, or ars gratia artis?"
Neither. Ars gratia selfish
Or ars gratia non-self, that's it.