Category Archives: Fate

Reality Sonnet From Photo

All the realities that we enjoy
Are merely some thin projections’ shadow:
What’s seen by us are visions we deploy
From the base existences that we know

The concrete reality that we see
From gentle breezes to birds & buildings
Are things that are & things we just believe
Existence is consciousnesses’ gildings

While it is painfully obvious that

There is an external reality

Within which we are all totally trapped

Without beliefs is falls to frailty

Here I have spent some time meditating

On the nature of truth: start berating

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Lost Sonnet Sonnet

I wrote a sonnet on an envelope

About the scope of my students writing

I’d just read an exploration of Hope

In beginner’s rough English challenging

The essay before that one was superb

Exploring determinism using

A Kurt Vonnegut book absurd

In these papers was the range of learning

Alas, I stuffed envelope unopened

Into the pocket of my cargo shorts

It had my membership card that they send

When you donate MoMA ǝʞıן a sport

Those fourteen lines about my students’ work

Are lost forever, I feel like a jerk

Headline Sonnet on Suicide

“[A] Body [Was] Spotted in Brooklyn Park

Just minutes after corpse found hanging

In [A] Waterfront Building[: A Sad Arc

This future’s possibility’s waning]”

The Daily News, who bothered to report

Said “The incidents are unrelated.”

But I want to dissent: sadness exhort

By depression they were both fellated

I feel the eddies that pulled them under:

A world of endless possibilities

With some chosen able to make thunder

Out of the reach of mere humanity

We are paying for the celebration

Of venal riches’ accumulation

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/ny-metro-brooklyn-police-hanging-park-20180607-story.html

Second Amendment Sonnet

A firearm in hand boosts the weak psyche

•Fist, Stick, Knife, Gun• explains psychology

A pistol needn’t compromise with me

2nd Amendment’s a tautology

White Supremacy’s 2nd Amendment

Guns to bully & slaughter Brown People

First Indians then Negroes targeted

Racism’s the American steeple

I’d always suspected this about guns

They’re part of the American ego

They were somewhat less necessary once

Back when White Supremacy was legal

Guns’re inextricably linked to death

Taking over when compromise has left

https://www.publishersweekly.com/978-0-8070-4449-0

http://freakonomics.com/podcast/how-to-think-about-guns-a-new-freakonomics-radio-podcast/

http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100460830

https://www.stitcher.com/s?eid=53508079&autoplay=1&refid=asi_twtr

“My Bad” Sonnet

On the bleak avenues where we poor live
(The ones not swept for rich suburban kids)
A catastrophic drama one man gives
(Apologizing for tragedy lived)

For some personal shortcoming he died
(Known only to him & his assailant)
Maybe he cheated? Maybe he lied?
Witnesses reported he died valiant

“(The victim) was clutching his chest… saying,
‘My bad! My bad!’ His last words — he said
‘my bad’ four times. …Were his last words [living].
It gave me goosebumps. [The last price he paid]”

For some established rule of the poorest
Death was delivered to one man homeless

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/nyc-crime/21-year-old-man-fatally-stabbed-brooklyn-shelter-article-1.3841501

Paper Maché Identity Sonnet

The remnants of my dreams cling in fragments

Like the torn strips of wetted news paper

Soaked in Wheatepaste and glue to be pliant

I’m only a paper maché cover

The pasteboard mask that I present to you

Made up of the finest linen paper

Is a simulacrum that is untrue

Made to help me pull off this bold caper

Who is anything more than a puppet

Strings leading up to the bold puppeteer

(Or a hand reaching up to control it?)

Once we know this we can play without fear

The script that we are performing each day

Was written long ago & far away

Rhyming Review: •The Gargoyle Hunters•


New York’s mood during metamorphosis
The “now” seems particularly cruel
Thus •The Gargoyle Hunters• will begin us
(This is today’s true literary jewel)

The meditations on what New York means
Complete with adolescent adventures
Of a free-range private school nerdy teen
All of which brought back my teen-aged culture

The relegated and crazy mother:
In an informal commune of borders
& the dashing obsessive father
Scavenging & barking out orders

A family painted on black velvet
Of private middle school dilemmas
Puberty and thievery’s strange couplet
Trapping our young Griffin in its clutches

Seeking approval & confederates
A scandalous collaboration’s made
Of two romantic thieving delegates
Who predate architecture’s colonnade

The father’s long term goal, disrupt the son’s
Immature middle school romances though
(But they do infect all the grown up ones)
It turns out we become the man we know

Iconoclastic rev’rence for icons
Is their spiral staircase of DNA
Though their collections give New York lesions
Their compulsions they cannot deny
Personalities’ personal suburbs
Those individuals on the outskirts
Of the mover’s & the shaker’s worlds
Are unfortunately too often hurt

The workers became shock troop of dreams
Marching right across convention’s front lines
To achieve the goals that the dreamer schemes
Little men enabling grand designs

In the end the dream is the loyalty
An all encompassing fidelity
That will become middle-aged pleasantries
Wrapped in older people’s sweet vagaries