Thursday, December 09, 2010


Exuberance!  My buxom chum!
O fortunate parcel of girl, wreaking sweet havoc
Amid the striped sheets and pale pillowcases!
Poetic nymph, gracing a windy December
With glasses of cheer and eyes of wild surprise!
When will you invade my temperate precinct,
Bringing flakes of snow and cereal,
Blinding the lively statues with your candor
As ineluctable as the seventh star?
O choicest parody of fleeting trends!
O ample-breasted heap of curves and bends!
Yours are the words of sonnets I cannot write
Unless I am drunk on life's farcical rainfall
As if the skies were pelting cabernet.
Exuberance, my comrade!  Sister, friend!
Let us feast on cheese that is fragrant and flagrant
As we sit by the chilly brink of the Mystic;
Or, in the purple bedroom stacked with novels,
Let us wrestle each other to feckless ecstasy!

Monday, December 06, 2010

An Advent Sonnet (penultimate draft?)

Few leaves cling to the gust-whipt gale-stript tree;
Frail flesh, fall-flesh, thrills to a weather wild!
As dim as dreams, cloud-balked, the sun leaks through,
Spilling weak light on a world no longer mild.

The screech of a lone black crow pierces the cold,
Presaging winter's brunt of snow and ice:
November's stubborn flowers nipped and killed
By north-wind's stinging blast; skies gray as mice.

Some souls there are who watch, grace-parched, light-starved,
For love's long-prophesied nativity
In a stone-hard, bone-chilled place: a fear-wracked time:

Unvisited, it seems, unblessed, unmoved
By him who makes all dead life live anew:
Each human heart a cave in Bethlehem.