Sonnet: Busy

Can I look, can I listen, can I speak?
Can I stop, can I walk, or can I run?
Can I fetch, can I put, or am I done?
Can I drop, can I gather, may I seek?

Will I lead, will I later, will I sneak?
Will I first, will I last, or will I shun?
Will I few, will I lots, or have I none?
Will I feed, will I wallow, am I bleak?

Must I find, must I forfeit, must I do?
Must I know, must I guess, or must I now?
Must I brave, must I cower, should I bow?
Must I glow, must I grimace, am I blue?

If I may, am I dower, did I stray?
Can I pray, for more hours, in the day?

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Sonnet V: Her Majesty

A word, then two, a fountain like a stream
That wears away a mountain. Time, a spring,
Reflection over aeons; it can bring
Perfection. Though it presses down, extreme

In ways of mystery. Its form can seem
To press its history:  On such a common thing
As common coal–transformative–may wring
A diamond fine and whole.  And so supreme

A form may limit, yet such limits might
Become the set of forces pressed upon
So commonplace a line as these I write.

The queen of all poetic forms: I fight
Her storms of pressure, educated on;
And open up my mind to all her light.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: