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, August 28, 2011

195
Sonnets From Other Lives: Hank

The man he used to be looked out at him
from the photograph. How many years
ago was that? He thinks he might have been
nineteen or so—way back when the beer
still brought out his brighter, bolder self—
before the blurry, bloated dullard in the mirror
with his breakfast PBR drank to his health
& hopelessness. Sometimes in his clearer
moments he can still recall those days—
when as the party’s life he held the stage
& everybody laughed & loved the way
everything for him was fun & games
& the girls were game & grinned with drunken lust.
Now they just avert eyes in disgust.
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)