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.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

8/17
Sonnet

Was it the boiling ocean that reminded me--
sent me to the bowels of my bag--
as corvid armies rode the air on wheels
and the vermin of Wasilla ravaged slag
mounds from glaciers gone awry?
Sapient homos head for higher ground.
Others take their rapture in the sky
where strings of universes splay unwound.
Once there were basilisks. Once there were dodos,
systems, cycles, & connecting links.
Riddle me this: Where does the soul go
when finally its species is extinct?
We ask of heaven that it set us free
from knowing our responsibility.
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1 comment:

  1. P. A .HofmannAugust 17, 2010 at 12:59 PM

    I really wanted to write something COMPLETELY random & Beck-like--maybe a Wm Burroughs cut & paste thingy but my brain refuses to allow it.

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