A ridge of slime around the sink

The tragedy of cooling water

With it’s rim of suds and sprawling stains

The debris of life is so mundane

And this vignette is like a spectre

Of yesterday, or a splinter

of sharp light intruding on shadows

Just fractions of tedium

I could do without

In my most imperial conceit

And then an adagio for strings

Stops me instantly

Makes me cry. And I know beauty

Is a living, pulsing thing

All that other stuff is useless

For I would happily die

With this sound filling me

Like some divine balloon

Swelling and ready to raise up

To a heaven that throbs

And gathers all the best of me

Into it’s soft embrace.

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