Such a funny little thing, this life I
Keep inside me: dreams that make me
sick at
Night and around-bend smells that guide
me; a sky
Whose eddies conduct my mood (whether
flat
Or roiled, I join in); fellow dancers
with whom
(Whether trance-lambs or saints) I'm
compelled
To toss my coin in; then the
crash-bang-boom
Of a stumble, of an oxidized bell
coming down from the rafters—all
shaded
and still—makes me leap from the
doldrums of
Circadian half-pipes to laughter: hallowed
For its spirit, yet condemned like a
drug
For its act—which makes farce of the
holy
(The best in us reminds us we are lowly).
(The best in us reminds us we are lowly).
A sonnet on being human; the comedic meeting of awareness and instinct.
ReplyDelete*{Note, parallel to this, the poem's dual rhyme-scheme: an end-rhyme that is regular and predictable (I-at-sky-flat-whom-compelled-boom-bell-etc.), yet hardly noticeable when the poem is read aloud, overpowered by an internal rhyme scheme that matches the baser grammatical structure of the sentence (inside me / guide me / join in / coin in / rafters / laughter / etc.) … yet, where the rhymes meet in the last couplet (holy, lowly), they become at once generically-recognizable and pleasantly audible: sonnet and doggerel; holy, lowly; funny, little. As in the best it is.}