The real still makes me reel, though I so reel it in,
as if, in three years, I have fished myself to shore.
To paper shores? These paper promises are more,
to be sure, than ink lines hooked out from seas of green.
Which gold is for the arrow. Draw the heartwood bow
and send the buzzing music on its true-shot way
to praise the tumbling shadows of the green-gold day
this April ending where such bracing breezes blow.
The way to inner freedom is not not to need
but to selve with selvings beyond us thresh and ply,
flap, flit, hop, bob, swoop, sneak, give tongue, rattle warning,
sit out jacketed until sun sets spear to sky.
Oh, there is a 'peace which passes understanding'*:
no book can nail it up, nor silly god-lord feed.
........................
*Saul/Paul, who held stoners coats before his conversion, and aided and abetted the repression of women after it, nevertheless did come out with a good phrase or two. I feel as free as the divil ;) to quote any scripture from any religion when it suits me. It's just books! Bound to have good bits as well as bad.
This Italian style sonnet is, however, written in lines of 12 not 10 syllables.
