Amateur

I must speak. The exigencies of the page
Demand it. I am bored, you are bored.
You are outraged: who thinks fit
To disperse empty words, the naked sounds
Of thought, to the winds, to the press of the air?
But the strings of speech, I implore you
Who do not so much listen as overhear,
Must be stretched out vibrant and supple, tuned
To the world, to the sounds they involve:
This is the screech of the young violin.