Tag: American-sonnet
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January Dream, 1987
January Dream, 1987 emerged from a dream visitation that blurred grief with peace. My mother, who had died decades earlier, returned in the dream not to ascend, but to sign love into my palm—wordless, tactile, and precise. The poem resists sentimentality and myth, honoring ambiguity and consequence. It’s an American sonnet that turns on ethical…
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American Sonnet for My Roomba Soul.
I am old and have seen so many dawns that their beauty has no wonder.You see, my God doesn’t need to be perfect- just right more times than not, and not repeat his/hers/its creations so much, for me to be totally happy.The only thing that still amazes me is that I can navigate the dark…