Tag Archives: Sonnets

370

Posted on November 13, 2017 by urbansonnets

I want to live a timeless existence. This life of time will kill my sense of self. If not my my mind will mutilate itself: suicide of a heart shorn of patience. I’m serious. I’ve lost my sense of sense … Continue reading →

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369

Posted on November 12, 2017 by urbansonnets

The desire to run has re-entered my body; should I also be surprised that words have come back whole and mobilized from foreign thoughts, fluid and de-centered? I long for novel thoughts that flow un-mentored by past experience, destabilized by … Continue reading →

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368 (Originally 355)

Posted on November 11, 2017 by urbansonnets

If the taxista, Don Jesús, was right, our planet simply recycles itself as we perish, congealed in amber bright island sun and time slide off the clouded shelf. Timeshares for me? I’m just chillin’, hermano, I just want to kick … Continue reading →

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367

Posted on November 11, 2017 by urbansonnets

I must ask myself, who are my people, by whom do I define this life’s journey, on the mezzo cammin’ up the steep hill, who must climb with me, who should concern me? Is tribe defined by family connection or … Continue reading →

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366

Posted on November 6, 2017 by urbansonnets

The best is when the air is tremulous with the humidity of bubbling broth while exotic vocals gurgle and froth over the beat making time emulous of space, which can saturate our senses and make time appear redoubled, sacred and … Continue reading →

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365

Posted on November 6, 2017 by urbansonnets

Throwing off my skin for selves I quickly hate, I have shunned all compromise and commitment and all good fellowship, my life is time spent in fugue from blessed time, I write around my fate. In a new port I … Continue reading →

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364

Posted on November 3, 2017 by urbansonnets

I’m too sleepy to write, but let’s plunge in to this artichoke heart lines, lime rhymes, and vinaigrette verse stirred with a truncheon that I took from the Law due to my crimes. I don’t know what is happening in … Continue reading →

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363

Posted on October 31, 2017 by urbansonnets

My students make it rain with Uno cards, a creative solution for the lack of ones in a community “Spanish,” “black,” where broken windows become broken shards. What exactly does that mean? I don’t know except that rupture begets more … Continue reading →

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362

Posted on October 31, 2017 by urbansonnets

Bureaucracy has forced me into shame: sign this, print that, do not forget, submit by hand, by mail, by god, by law, by writ: I give up, I give in, I withdraw my formal name from consideration of acceptance. Let … Continue reading →

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360

Posted on October 25, 2017 by urbansonnets

Corridors crammed with saucy self-concept likely to spill on the linoleum floor: “You got something to eat? Give me some. Thanks, good looks”: we are most likely inept Passion, patience. Green-yellow leaves fighting off winter in this hollow hill of … Continue reading →

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