Poem a Day?

Imperfect Things


I like things imperfect,
Things bravely started
Then left behind as the maker
Started something else;
I like things that don't quite rhyme,
Or scan: things that are a little off.
Dissonance in music, the right dissonance,
Is the best music to me. It rings
Somewhere where perfection and formality
Lie silent and unheard.
I like the lopsided tree, the branch
Bent in the wrong direction; I like 
The last dog left in the pound whose mates
Have all been taken in preference.
I like the painting gone askew but signed 
By a loving painter anyway.
"Glory be to God for dappled things,"
Said the poet, and when I read it 
I had to read it twice. "He thinks like me,"
Thought teen-aged I. Nothing is perfect;
Nothing is all right; no edges are true; 
Things are not square. Oh, yes!

YAZZYBEL