Stranded in a realm strangely familiar
I shield my gaze with my hand and a groan
Escapes. A soft light begins to arc up
And over the horizon, defying
The black logic of this infinite plane
Splitting the universe into two halves.
There are no horizons. Fused with the air,
The cruelest reward for purpose: despair
And total silence, as my voice that laughs
Is snatched away to another refrain
And returned into meltdown as crying.
In fetal parody, my cup offered,
The dawn desiccates my chances for home.
The dormant seed teaches me: NO DEATH HERE

1 comment:

shaun said...

I composed this sonnet in 1985, either for Franz's or Bill's poetry class....I can't recall which (Wright and Knott, respectively). More than likely it was Bill's, due to his assignments for us to write in various old forms. (I'll sift deeper through my notes and see if I can't uncover any clues as to whose class I wrote this one for.) In that spirit, I'd like to dedicate this to Bill and Franz. Thank you for your support and guidance.