Sonnet (2014)

‘Tis told to me that I must heed the rule
of older poets blessed with larger pens-
to cherish all the forms I learned in school
and practice sight through imitation’s lens.
But I in my foolhardiness do balk
at being led to water I’ve not found;
at being steered to join an ardent flock
whose homage to their elders does resound
like thousand year-old hymns, always the same,
rife replicas of patterns proven true.
As worn-out wood cannot support a flame,
so sonnets and their like breed nothing new.
Except to boast a new flow’r on my bonnet
I see no reason to write a sonnet.

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Year 2: Day 41 – Brains Are Bullies Sometimes

Brains are bullies sometimes-
they want want want
when we’re just trying
to exist ok.

What kind of decisions
can we make
under pressure of death
anyways?

Don’t ask me, brain-
I’m just a piece of licorice
or a penguin eraser.

I’M HARMLESS, I SAY,
don’t try to get
anything concrete
out of me,

just help me play
chess for fun
because at the end of that
nobody actually dies
and nobody wins more
than a piece of licorice
or a penguin eraser

and don’t steal it
out of my lunchbox
later.

52 Flashes of Fiction: Week 10 – Love Like Wine

Two teenagers say ‘I love you’ for the very first time in a vineyard they snuck into under the stars. Fifty years later they say it again at their dining room table over a bottle of wine from that year. What I want to know is which time was it more important? What I can’t figure out is whether we can live with a handful of crushed grapes in our young hands, or is there a potent enough reason to earn the right to taste a wine almost as old as ourselves?

Me, I think I’m the type that had too much of it once and doesn’t trust myself to try it again. The fool things we do when we’re just finding out how drunk we’ll allow ourselves to be- sometimes they’re bad enough to make you drop it for good.

So I go around asking, but nobody knows what they want or even why they want it. If you ever get a chance, watch couples in the bar, but don’t ask them what they’re doing there- they don’t know. I can’t figure it out, either.

I can’t figure out what the difference is between the magic we take and the magic we earn if all of it burns in our hands. What price is it worth down the gullet to our livers if we’re all gonna be sober in the morning?