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, January 31, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Abbi

She reminds herself that she's alive
by checking regularly in the mirror
& talking constantly. So does she strive
so to connect because it's clearer
to her that the air she's breathing
is lacking in something--perhaps her voice?
Anyway whatever thing she's needing
to feel complete has left her with a choice:
To sit in silence waiting for some wisdom
or fill the air with every passing thought.
For her this is the way that life is done:
Share it all now. Everything you've got.
She's telling mirror mirror on the wall
everything she knows--saying it all.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: David & Jonathan

They were down to their last few T cells—
& so they argued over who’d die first.
Both of them agreed the perfect hell
of the other’s family’s grief would be far worse
than dying--that put them on the same page.
Who needs a mother’s cold accusing grief.
Who wants a father’s seething guilty rage?
The Big Sleep would be The Big Relief.
They made all the arrangements in advance—
the music, words, the caskets and the performers.
One wanted DJ and a dance.
One wanted wailing professional mourners.
Their laughter would comingle with their crying
‘till finally it was all over but the dying.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Malcom

He likes the woman in the photograph
hanging on the wall in the gallery.
Her steady stare had stopped him in his tracks.
He never thought to question her reality.
In fact he’d formed a small infatuation
with her—a little fantasized relationship.
Then the caption revealed she was a creation—
a photoshop composite. He’d been tricked
into a silly simulacrum of love
with a simulacrum of a pretty girl
made of parts of other faces. Thinking of
a mirror maze from M.C. Escher’s world
he finally breaks away from her bold stare
satisfied that she was never there.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Carol-Lynn

Silhouetted surfers at sunset
waiting for the last promising wave.
Carol-Lynn is watching her regrets
drown in the Pacific with the day.
Leaving had it upside & that was
the freedom to sit here now on her own
which—of course--has its own down side because
she isn’t sure just how to be alone.
What does one say to oneself when there is
no one else to edit—criticize?
She sees a rider standing up on his
board now—his whole focus on the ride.

Twilight. The past is dead to her.
Someday—she thinks—I’ve got to learn to surf.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Reunion at the Zodiac

Ruby is all fire & in the moment.
Fischer comes & goes but craves connection.
Waters keeps his curiosity in ferment.
Toro craves a financial perfection.
The twins compete & strive to get ahead.
Mooney craves intimate reassurance.
Leo leads—puts himself at the head.
Sapphire sees the right thing & prefers it.
Though Opal wants consistence, she’s unsteady.
Stinger will outlast all opposition.
Archer wants the good life—when he’s ready.
Garnett seeks the world’s admiration.

The table’s set—a place for everyone
to mingle in a place around the sun.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Mikail

In the mirror he could see his edges soften—
a slow erosion of his sharper parts.
Reluctantly he came to see that often
old connections would grow brittle—break apart.
By perusing portents in the morning paper
he had learned to make his peace with certain doom.
Today he’ll leave the worst of it for later—
right now the urge to flee has filled this room.
He’s going to need a open sky for this—
not these walls with their vague electric hum.
Three parts solitude & one part bliss—
he steps outside & lets the moment come.

A new morning presents itself as he
moves through his small piece of eternity.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Will

Thinking about angels as he walks
out of the cinema onto the street—
In the film they brood & sit around & talk
about the gift that is mortality.
Desire for them became a thing with wings—
perhaps feathered like its cousin Hope.
Three old men busking in a doorway sing
gospel music for his coins. To cope
with eternity must seraphim
balance forbearance with curiosity?
The poor angel who must watch over him--
his boring life— bereft of mystery.
It’s cold. He’ll hurry home & build a fire—
pour a whiskey & put wings to his desire

Monday, January 17, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Pilgrim

It will be another hour or so he thinks
before the sun reaches this narrow valley .
He’ll wait ‘til then to strip--wash off the stink
in the icy stream before he rallies
himself once more and resumes his trek.
Long leagues & longer days have worn him down.
Lingering & loafing—he’ll respect
the body’s soft request to sit around
this morning in this grove beside this stream
with this cup of chai—this book of poems—
before resuming onward with this dream-
like journey from his previous life to roam
these cold mountains on his aimless quest.
But first he’ll sit back a spell & rest.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

One Week After

You Real American Patriots
--who aim graphic cross-hairs at the map of the United States
--who call for Second Amendment solutions to the democratic process
--who lobby to cut funding for mental health services
--who fight to make semi automatic handguns with extended magazines
readily available to all
--who remind us with your bumperstickers that the tree of liberty
must be regularly refreshed with blood

How do you feel now that that blood has been spilled
from the septuagenarian husband diving to shield his wife?
from the earnest young man who dedicated his life to social work?
from the federal judge who stopped by on his way home from church?
from the retired secretary?
from the church volunteer?
from the nine year old student body president?
from the duly elected representative to the U.S. Congress as she stood listening to the concerns of her constituents?

Now you have seen
what actually happens when
someone looks through real gun sights &
actually applies
those Second Amendment solutions.

What say you
now that the words
that you
so blithely spewed
have come to their
brutal fruition?

Friday, January 14, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Michelle

She never knew what hit her. She was dead
before the car careened off of the bridge.
The rifle bullet took most of her head—
the car crash just confused things--for it hid
for some time the sleight of hand of fate—
the intersecting lines of happenstance—
an open car window--a sunny day--
a kid out in a boat who just by chance
fired a rifle—just screwing around—
a half a mile out—shooting bottles—
never knew the ricocheting bullet found
her driving eastbound—foot down on the throttle—
singing with the radio with no
notion where the next second would go.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Greg

So he’s the boyfriend now—he’s pretty sure.
She takes his calls—they go out twice a week.
He thinks she’s into him—he’s into her--
but he’s worried—afraid that she’s a freak.
It’s just that they keep running into exes.
They’re everywhere & it’s creeping him out
It’s like she’s dated everyone in Texas--
or Austin anyway & he’s about
had it with the endless introductions.
--This is Autie—we met at SMU.
--We used to call Chris Mister Seduction.
He just stands there—not sure what to do.
He’s paralyzed—see she is really pretty.
Maybe they just need a bigger city

Monday, January 10, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: She, Him & Her

Word was she worked at Treez—the coffee shop—
a barista forchrissakes—wouldn’t you know.
He gets that charm thing going—doesn’t stop—
they get confused & think he cares. Sometimes she goes
by the shop & watches her at work.
He’d like her trendy glasses. And the boobs.
He’d have her at the second impish smirk.
(She knew all too well what he could do)
She won’t go in—peers through the window—doesn’t linger—
just gathers in the character & setting.
The narrative will bleed out of her fingers
& spill onto the keyboard. She’s regretting
less & less the pain of the affair
with the discovery that there is art in there.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Gino

He hears her on the stair at 10:15.
She drops her keys—he wonders—is she drinking?
She puts Puccini on—what could that mean?
An abandoned Butterfly? Now he’s thinking
of her next door—lonely in her flat—
swooning drunkenly with tragic sorrow.
They sit together now—he & the cat—
Maria Callas promises tomorrow
Pinkerton returns--we know he won’t.
He fills his glass half full (or half empty).
The music cuts off suddenly. This goes
over poorly with him—it’s unfriendly
of her to end the evening’s theater.
Whatever did he ever see in her?

Friday, January 7, 2011

Sonnets From Other Lives: Charlotte

He would call one mountain Komo Kulshan.
He called the other one Tahoma.
One time we were driving to the ocean
& stopped & had some breakfast in Tacoma
& he told me that he would only use old names.
Just because Vancouver drew the maps…
Who the hell was Rainer anyway?
Three years & I never saw a lapse.
He was like that—sticking to a thing—
that weekend it rained three days and nights.
I slept in the car, but no not him.
Somewhere in there we had our first fight.
Three years was enough. I had to go.
Still use native names for mountains though.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

1/5
Sonnets From Other Lives: Anton


Anton lingers in the dark Agora
to commune a little longer with the ghosts
of the Golden Age. He sits before a
ruined stoa—watching as a host
of shadows engage in the business of
invoking memories among the living—
threads that bind them to the world above
their bones & shades in Hades. Anton’s giving
them his full attention for a time
before he returns to the Plaka & the present.
This voice of history works on his mind—
he hears the message if not the intent.
Anton rises, shivers--is outcast
by those who rue his presence in the past

Monday, January 3, 2011



Sonnets From Other Lives: Butterfly

Sequoia sempervirens ruled these slopes
fifteen hundred years before the girl
jumared ninety meters up a rope
& took residence for two years in its world—
an ecosystem in the canopy—
where detritus gathers in the limbs to host
Tanbark Oak, Salal, & Huckleberry
& now this woman/guardian—her post
a platform on a tree she would call Luna.
She faced winter storms, harassment, legal threats--
none of them dislodged her. Soon the
world heard & marveled. Join me—let’s
watch her standing—arms spread—on the crown—
gazing up & out instead of down