Sonnet: What Flows

Magnificent, the world in which my life
Resplendent lives–the place I yet reside–
I have no thoughts of leaving. Thus I hide,
Perfection so deceiving; and the strife

I see is that which I desire; so rife
With excellence, as may inspire and guide,
As flowers of evil, peacefully subside;
Maleficence benevolently siphoned

Out, bequeathing uncorrupted beauty.
Stout perfection cracks and shatters when
I travel not abroad, as is my duty
To this perfect place, and stills my pen.

Lest, wretched with sublime I must conflate,
How stale then, the world I must create.


Intro: A little too “dead-leaf”-ish

I watch the crazy
lady yelling at the desk
clerk; The couple fighting two

booths away; The paranoid
schizophrenic handling both
sides of the conversation; The

beggar demanding change;
the best of everything, that

I crave, that I prefer, that I gather
up and
take with me.


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