Saturday, September 19, 2009

Sonnet on the Ribs of Laughter


Those who find the sun in every sorrow

may yet cry thunderstorms when in their hiding.

Not rarely, who teaches hope can barely borrow

what it takes to make it through a day’s colliding,

that is why they talk so much of hope.  Tomorrow

and today are both a moment in aligning;

joke is that the hawk-heart is a swallow

by night.  Who hears the music also hears the sighing.

By night who sees light, by day so sees the harrow,

but never ruled by sun nor star as law abiding,

no, the bilious cloud that knows of sorrow

comes at its whim, as does its twin: the dove arising.

Be kind to us we singers of delight,

we sing because we sigh in day and night.


From my second poetry book, Funny.

1 comment:

Peter Harter said...

I admire this poem very much. I wonder what you were reading that led to a poem like this. It has a different cadence than your other work. It's very soft sounding--it reminded me of Vachel Lindsay's "The Chinese Nightingale" and Burton Watson's translation of Chang Tzu.