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.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

227
Sonnets From Other Lives: the Subject

The CCTV camera at the mall
at thirteen thirty seven indicates
he’s roughly five foot seven or so tall.
In the ATM shot you can see his face
& environmental propaganda
on his t-shirt. His browsing history
tells us he plays online games & has a
mild interest in pornography.
Once or twice a week he will go jogging,
(three point seven miles—Google Earth).
For the last six months he has been blogging
about his politics. For what it’s worth,
we’d like more data than what we have here so
we can process his whole life as ones & zeros.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

226
Sonnets From Other Lives: Gil

Gil pushes his walker through the mall—
one circuit equaling one point two miles.
These days one circuit ‘round is really all
he can manage. The pretty mall cop smiles
as he approaches—Hey Gill! Keep on truckin’.
He looks up from his stooped lurch—Ah yuh,
Rosa—I’m tryin.
You make your own luck in
this world, Gil thinks. Lord know he’s seen enough
hard times to know. Just half a mile to go—
one one hundred twelfth the distance of
the march from Bataan to San Fernando.
Pick em up & set em down now. Left. Right. Left.
As long as you’re still movin you ain’t dead.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

227
Sonnets From Other Lives: Gail

It’s just a heavy snowfall—not a blizzard
or anything, but the freeway’s not moving.
Crap—Gail says & puts All Things Considered
on the radio. ShitCrap! She’s losing
patience. Taking out her mobile phone,
she calls the sitter—Carole? Look I’ll be
late. The freeway's jammed. No I don’t know..

She’d left work without stopping to pee.
Big mistake. Then the guy in the car
in front of her starts putting on his chains.
Jesus Christ! Do you know where you are?
This is the freeway! What are you? Insane?
Dire news drones on the radio.
Oh just to pee, collect her kids, & get back home.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

225
Sonnets From Other Lives: Gino

Gino owned that he’d been acting surly
since his recent self-defenestration.
(Seems this girl’s parents came home early. )
It brought him scarily close to castration
by picket fence. He landed badly &
cracked his calcaneus. Now cast
in clichéd rom-com humiliation
& itchy neon plaster-- Just don’t ask—
he says, but it’s too late. The word is out.
Yo Romeo! You gotta pick a lower
balcony next time
—the assholes shout.
& all Gino can do is limp & glower.
Note to self: Next you’re trying to get laid
take time to plan a better getaway.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

224
Sonnets From Other Lives: Rosi & Nu


They order banh mi sandwiches to go.
(A sign forbids “eating on food" inside.)
Fall is in full flame outside & so
they’re glad enough to picnic. You should try
a soda chanh
—Nu says. Rosi complies.
She’s new to Vietnamese take-out. Oh my
Gawd Nu! I'm in love! Love at first bite.

Love—the word does cartwheels in Nu’s chest.
I think D’shaun is asking me to tolo--
Rosi says—You going with someone?
Nu stammers out—I might go—you know—solo.
Rosi laughs—I’ll fix you up. It’ll be fun.
Seagulls, sensing handouts float above
the girls & cry like unrequited love.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

223
Sonnets From Other Lives: Wilson

Know that swirling gyre of garbage in
the mid-Pacific? We’re all castaways
floating in detritus. You begin
to meld with jetsam--rue the days
that we’ve infested this poor planet.
There’s too much goddamn noise! Don’t you find
that it’s a struggle simply to inhabit
some pristine place within without your mind
wandering in the rancid memes & logos
that leech onto us parasitically?
See every other thing I think I know--
every other random memory--
was bought & paid for-- sponsored & spoon fed
to me by me & will be ‘til I’m dead

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

222
Sonnets From Other Lives: Elke

In the labyrinthine showrooms of Ikea
she sees them wending—vacant eyed & lost.
She’ll be stocking SMYCKA table lamps & see a
middle aged man measuring the cost
of the NYVOLL bed frame vs the FJELLSE
with a face somewhere between confused
& woebegone. Sometimes they ask for help. She
smiles professionally—somewhat bemused
by their predicaments. The KARLSTAD sofa-
bed is practical for sure but the KIVIK
is so much more chic I think & goes a
lot better with your POANG armchair.
Pick
your new life carefully-- she thinks. Of course
the old one was commandeered in the divorce.