What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Cole

The song kept ending with no resolution--
just hung there in the air & putrefied.
For the life of him a viable solution
eluded every chord change that he tried.
Myrra called last night, so of course he
is suffering the old heart burn again.
Her with her flirty ambiguities...
Yes? No? Now? Not now? OK then when?
He got up from the piano--made a drink.
Why did he let her get to him? Why couldn’t he
just let it go? These days he couldn’t think
straight. Why should it take so long
to write an ending to a stupid song?
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