SONNET 129
A couch which makes you sink in precious warmth subsides
Had a conduit although thyself originates
Not self-absorption but long embraces deprived
Withal blaming cushions timid'ty cogitate.
Include my well-sprung thoughts find true meridian:
Ashamed, wise, more intense o clever, wider readers;
Phonebooks noun'd the verb and verb'd the noun, intentions
Between cold and hot was not fair but a fever.
Television counterfeits prospects to a drab,
Made where bounty, rich potential simulated,
Too, o'er bad faith small-aspirèd enthrones could nab
Thy fervor; films fear, rheumatiz'd video games,
So realistic, aren't. My friend, I would if rust
Will not torment this ill this young 'nd, indef'nite's dust.
