"Sour Neon Worms" (sonnet using endwords from Shakespeare xiv.)
To thole these things demands much more than pluck,
Demands something like feral astronomy!
Darwinian chores & glorifying luck
Alike impede. I find a quality
Of sheer despair in sibyls who won't tell
And desolate days to come arroyos wind
In blindfold choices now. Our poisoned well
Will drive a few souls forth, to fade or find
Their stormy way; from this no dreams derive
That i can use; my deliquescent art
Can teach me only hermitwise to thrive...
O desert, take a solitary convert
Into your depths, whose wounds prognosticate
Perhaps but martyrdom, at no far date.
(2005)
"...clings to the horse's reins, leans to her clover tether;
waits on his Queequeg casket for her lucky charms.
This pitch-black diamond (willows to almond rod)."
--Henry Gould, Parmenides in Minneapolis (2024)
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