Pride and Self-Entitlement
A Shakespearean Sonnet

Its fractured, couplet breaths silently mourn
The broken bell this light once more has rung
And we have marched ourselves all on our own
On wooden splints the leaves are halfway-hung.

Where does our corporal movement head from here?
My shoes are worn, but look, my hands are new
And you and I, His children, year by year
Have fallen short, our lovings few and few.

Come sunset, still the drawn out twain remains
No echoes, just the tilling, longing voice
And I, pressing the gravel down in shame
Am told to leave the line and sing, rejoice

For we have marched ourselves all on our own
The fractured, couplet breaths have been my own.

A Cinq-Cinquain

A string
- white and red - ties
Ankle to ankle - but
They don’t know. It’s invisible.
then, the

pull - what's
that?- he's gone cloud
diving – or, perhaps, sea-
swimming with a herd of drunken
blue whales.

Or she's
floated off to
Milada lakadi
By way of puff sleeves - two hot air
balloons

Caught in
The clouds - the wait -
Of wind and rain and sighs
And tears - Movement not always of
the feet.

His pause
- her lips - in the
'oh' of silence - they hear
a whisper of string-swept ground - a
still stir.



"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,
regardless of time, place, or circumstance.
The thread may stretch or tangle,
but it will never break." - Ancient Chinese Myth

Cinquain: She is

Stupid
like a flap-tongue
in purple darkness - not
lost enough to warrant excuse -
Stupid.