what
have
i
done
here
?
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
I thought the following would be an interesting form of analysis. What would happen, I wondered, if I picked out all or most of the verb/verb-like structures and began each line with them? How many would there be, and what form would begin to unfold? Strangely Triadic line more or less suggests itself. Not of the form I originally showed but still this exercise generates 14 verses, and it might start to become clear that I tend to subconsciously “think in sonnets.” I wasn’t aware originally that some of these types of patterns would arise, but it seems as though they have.
Have a look and see if this helps you understand the words any better. What does one think of when one sees such lines? It is curious that many of the lines appear to look and sound like a certain variety of 20 century poetry; wherein one often sees lines beginning and ending in odd spots–possibly to create tension, and possibly for some other reason–or even no reason at all.
If I did not describe my heart
how it yearns for you how it
quickens at every sight of you
every instant when I first hear
your voice if I did not write of
how it races when you come near
that it has skipped when you
have touched me that it pounds
with the expectation of your
touch every beat so hard that it
shakes my body enough for you
to see if I chose to keep the
secret of its quiet rhythm in
the morning when I wake how long
I have lain quietly amazed as our
hearts beat in perfect synchrony
that I wondered how many minutes
would pass before their rhythms
diverged every word withheld as
I lay down my pen and lock it
away with its barren white sheets
if I swore not to describe my
heart would it stop beating
forever?
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
What is the meaning of
this form?
Is this more capriciousness?
If I did not describe my heart how it yearns for you
how it quickens at every sight of you every instant
when I first hear your voice if I did not write of how
it races when you come near that it has skipped
when you have touched me that it pounds with the
expectation of your touch every beat so hard that
it shakes my body enough for you to see if I chose
to keep the secret of its quiet rhythm in the morning
when I wake how long I have lain quietly amazed as
our hearts beat in perfect synchrony that I wondered
how many minutes would pass before their rhythms
diverged every word withheld as I lay down my pen and
lock it away with its barren white sheets if I swore
not to describe my heart would it stop beating forever?
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
It is probably
apparent that I did not
write the words in the
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