a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №113
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 17 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 6 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.
UPON THE altar lies an ancient book
leather-bound, inscribed with mystic signs
with intersecting threads and brave designs
and like a fish reeled up by line and hook
it draws me nearer by the wish to look
to read the secrets written in the lines
unfolding the arcanum of this shrine
no moment more of waiting I can brook
I seize upon the tome of hundred pages
upon that ancient book I lay my eager hand
open it but find no words or images
no letter, glyph, no jot, no ampersand
I leaf through nine and ninety empty pages
and on the last, one line I understand
proclaimed in truth by all the saints and sages
“give up your self to love: that I command,
and eternal life shall be your wages”
beautiful. read it a couple of times out loud.
To the challenge that he should explain the Torah while standing on one foot, Rabbi Akita replied What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah; the rest is the explanation of this—go and study it!"