For the last year I have been working on a series of sonnets. Inspired by Robert Lowell’s “Notebook 1968/69” – itself a collection of sonnets – I’ve tried to adhere to the idea that the works comprise one collective poem, rather than being individual in their nature. Having said that, the sonnet form does influence the work toward a 14 line narrative structure that can be selfish to its own identity, within the more general common cause of collective unity.
A line of Lowell’s that caught my attention today is: “In the end the hypochondriac is his own prophet”
So I decided to post this one up for the time being, (Simply Men) in part to see how it looked away from my own screen. (Even though this particular screen still is mine when I look at it.) The nuance of sharing work off the page and onto screen still…
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