a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (74)
Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. Also, I should acknowledge that the formal aspect of this “Petrarchan sonnet” is liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 18 lines is like a quartet with 7 members, though criticism and rebuke is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
I CREST the hilltop with the fall of night
my footfalls muffled by new-fallen snow
behold the cityscape arrayed below
shimmering like stars upon a sea of light
I take no pause to drink in the sight
but as a cold and eager wind begins blow
I mend my pace; now ‘mid the urban glow
past street lamps, signs that shine with neon bright,
I swim, breathless toward a distant shore
my progress watched by myriad vacant eyes
electric souls whose vision chills my core
and my own soul’s secrets from it seek to pry
but I press on and finally gain the shore:
above my head fans out a starry sky
whose witness seems into my soul to pour
a draught of Heaven, now with hope that’s high
my soul need not be fishlike anymore
for angels lent their wings to her to fly
