Monday, November 1, 2010


I am Ronnet, forgotten by all for
That bastard Sonnet.  Let the emphasis
Fall where it may; let your words smoothly pour.
Iambs you worship while I show the kiss.
Servants of the couplet, blind to my passion.
I will never kill your most perfect lines.
No love, no evil will I soon ration.
Your prose not deployed to hungry mines.
Reveal yourself! Why wait for the couplet?
Must you detain your naked emotion
So your dreamed kisses are no longer wet?
Arousal restrained thwarts culmination.
Sonnet! You nourished my heart, then starved it.
The embodiment of love? Ha! Just a cheap hustler!

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