Sonnet Four: On Desire, Tradition, and Individualism

If actions betray, what is it you hide,
and why is desire always at the root,
why do the vines for wine bear bitter fruit?
Take what you want and need then throw the rind.
Desire: should you respect it or ignore,
if you start the way will you find the guide,
is there any truth to things of the mind?
Part of my desire is to not conform.

Is there any problem we cannot face,
is there some old way we can't reinvent?
If tradition will always have its place,
this is our individual talent:
poetry is more than gender or race,
let's be inclusive of the whole planet.

Sonnet Three: On Jealousy and Strife, Eris and me.

'There is only one position for an artist anywhere; and that is, upright.' -Dylan Thomas, "Wales and the Artist," Quite Early One Morning, BBC radio, 1954.

A jealous mind is beset on all sides,
what might seem empty is full of envy
and discord is thrown impetuously,
there is a hidden bitterness I hide.
There is no comfort in a false pretense,
you are not only mental conditions,
it's not all just body and the functions,
sometimes, there is a deep kindness expressed.
Only love in the faces around me,
there is no comfort in a false friendship,
does anyone not know fear's deference,
does one not defer to fear equally?
If there is an open discord expressed,
I try to find my hidden bitterness.

So, this is the shoulder,
so, this is my stone;

my sister,
I should not be alone.

Sonnet Two

Not what he can do, but what he cannot.
Not the possible, but the obstacle.
Not the signified, but the parable.
Not what he's thinking, but what has been thought.
See, always with you what cannot be done.
You offer no resistance to weakness,
half-way welcoming it inside to rest.
The ones who really challenge you, you shun.
It's not love to share, but it's fear embraced.
There are many reasons to retire,
but only one to keep climbing higher.
If it's not greatness, what else can you chase?
I would not wish depression on any,
two perspectives in me, both are ready.

Sonnet One

Could anything I say ever keep me
from you? Violent seeds following through
will crouch at your door in abeyance, soon
you can control this. Looking up I see
two big bright eyes looking right back at us.
All I am is not only in the whirlwind,
there is more on the road than to begin.
Stillness in the center of the red dust,
brazen and warlike, holding victory.
She sits to the right of me on her own,
discipline, the only mother I know.
To the left of her I straddle the scene.
Petra holding the keys of life and death,
the Son of Man was quickly dispossessed.

M A I Y H W

I'm an American,
shirt sleeves, temerity,
I whisper like the man.
Dislike competition,
except when I will win,
I always am the best.
Accept what I'm selling,
rejecting what I hate,
one day I'll make it rain.
I watch T.V. a lot,
the cereal box says
advertising makes sense.
Well, it makes dollars, lots,
it takes intelligence,
let them program the kids,
then see the image change.
Generation herder,
An empire like babes.

Another style
is quietly found,

I'm fond of you--
another fool.

Love is too loud
with the heart beating,

I'm usually too loud, too.
I'm also too quiet to disagree,

but one and one
usually make three.