Into 1: To Atlas And…

To All The Weary:
He who waits. He who does not.
He who lifts the Earth.

Holds himself aloft.
Who reaches to the Heavens.
Godspeed either way.


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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Sonnet V: 1914

See there, what are those pestilent that smother
In the muck? And there, I see, ignored
Within the mire, more are stuck; and Lord!
Behold, one bunches up to bid another

Well! Though unobtrusively, its brother
It disdains with such a tell.  With bored
Enthusiasm, one will slither toward
A wretched thing as if to give the other

An award. But lo! What it intends!
Now can it actually be, to grant
The other honours and a meaningless
Degree? How sweet, if my corrupted friends
Would slyly acquiesce, to grant me scanty
Honours with an automatic yes.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:


Intro 5: Strange Days

I fell upon, particularly strange
These shores wherein I found myself marooned
Instead of somewhere infinitely light.

My voyage, it began capriciously.
And, though within it lives embedded form,
Possesses also an embedded soul.


Sonnet IV: Heirs

Ye Gods: Ye Old and New, and Yet Unborn,
Ye need not climb with Armies of Your Own
To banish each corruption from its Throne;
But light from soul to soul, and each adorn

With Grace; and watch as true believers borne
Will magnify the knowing and the known
Until they have unnumbered billions sown.
And someday, to their young, will point and warn:

See there, my daughters and my sons, that stain
There, crawling nearly lifeless on our height?
Dare you believe it thought it had free reign
To tear down what was Beautiful and Right?

And all the youth will laugh, and never see
How such a foolish thing… could ever be:

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:


Intro 4: If Only

I expected five.  But for some unknown reason, four came before three, shortly after two.  And that told the whole story.  As well as five could. Reading them over, I sometimes see a fifth there, and sometimes I don’t.


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