Since April is National Poetry Month, I would like to offer this up as a profoundly satisfying example of the genre. I'm more of a prose person, but you can probably understand why this sonnett tickled my fancy:

Nothing in That Drawer
by Ron Padgett
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.
Nothing in that drawer.

More later on My Wonderful East Coast Adventures, including the Baltimore Mafia, decorating my "kitchen," buying prepackaged Canadian Ham, the Princeton writer who says that Brown is "morbid and neurotic," strange rock reviewers, and my apparent future as an art historian.
Ye Gods.