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.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

10/10/10
Sonnets From Other Lives: Sandra

Now Sandra knows the weight of clouds.
Each weighs about one hundred elephants.
This factiod from her radio, announced
as she drives westward on that great expanse
of open sky that is eastern Montana.
Puffy pachyderms form up ahead.
Finally she's escaped from Indiana.
Still there's that last thing her mother said
before she could make her getaway
rattling her mind like a loose bearing.
Mom could always find something to say
that left a scar.  She tries to keep from caring,
but no, she still feels guilty and bereft.
Who knew a little cloud could have such heft?
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1 comment:

  1. P. A .HofmannOctober 10, 2010 at 11:52 AM

    I head Robert Krulwich do a story on NPR: How much does a hurricane weigh? The meteorologist uses elephants as a unit of measure. Glad I had my poetic license in the car with me.

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