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| +Title: Sonnet 1 +Topic: Shameless Need +Special Notes: Rhythmically-challenged sonnet As my love that sets the chops of night waves to the simple, shades of gray, there will be no pretensions, no redundant, stormy wishes; only leafy, deadened-Fall craves. No one needs that foolish gallantry: save your horse, your deeds, your feats, things I rarely ever receive. I shall supplicate (me, lowly, wanton, feisty me), always rave astonishedly that Zen has come to court so shy and lonesome a maelstrom fiend, that demure malfunctions designed like me are needed, small ferocities. I exhort the smallest insecurities, yet at the freedom of you, I rest in the dark. |
