Five sonnets here I wrote over the course of 2010, now slowly rotting on my USB drive. If you choose to read one or two, bear in mind they need to be read slowly. They look long but poetry is really short. If you would like to appreciate them then you may even read one over more than once. They are written with some loose chronology in mind.
To see Eden in its first spring
would inspire life
in the wintriest soul, warming
to its Creator from merciless
grey. The freshwater trickle down
an arm’s length of rocks is a torrent
upon the heart; faint starlight through the forest
canopy illuminates each beat.
On some soft buttercups in Paradise,
Adam lay and gave audience to a pair
of sleeping doves. No previous
offshoot of naïve rationality had so much
as inclined him to the hole
in his being, the edge of which he now slept.
earlier. Ample shards of sun
pierced the shade, broke on
the gossamer, heavy
with dew, and flitted about Adam’s eyelids.
He stirred a little. She,
circumspect, withdrew her step and waited,
as one eye, then another, slowly discerned morning
on moss and bark, to discover her feet
There! Wildly, over Adam rolled! And ran to outrun
his pounding chest – and beautiful
God he challenged when his gaze
fell about Eve’s face.
As the jackal grinds her teeth
to twilight, she whets
downwind. Ecru mountains
flank the dimming horizon. If the huntress
had sniffed him in her territory, it was his
raw passion that let on, though Adam
would have her
skin. But soon the sable hour and desert
air will smooth the sand and cool
his lust better
than sweat can. The constant, steady heartbeat
of a distant other will lull this weary spirit to
rest. And El Shaddai’s smile will wrinkle in dust.
Some figure stumbles across
the dirt, and skips a step over some
misplaced pebble. Another trails
at a distance, in inadvertent pursuit. From the highest
point above them, the sun burns
like a curse. When the throat starts
pulsing, the body needs water, and sleep
when the sultry day relents. Two
stragglers crossed a wasteland
and settled with the sea.
And as the tide pushed inland, Eve pushed
toward the only other she knew. Her tired
eyes remained open. Adam drank no water.
But they sat very close.
With night looming silently
above, the shore inched up
the sandy incline. Up sprang Adam
from the bite that nipped his toes,
and left his companion’s side. In his arms
he carefully gathered her to
the higher ground, then lunged with a fist of sand
at the haughty wave that tried to snatch
his Eve. But in that moment, the first man saw
the first time he, with deadly curiosity, spied
her face and had longed just to meet her
eyes again. And he saw
the embers edging the carcass of the goat he
first slaughtered. He was jealous that the sands
would one day take his Eve. And he held her
as if holding eternity.