Aug 16, 2011 | Gus Stevens, Sinner's Psalms vol. 2, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet
His enemies, subdued, still spit with rage their hated hymns, “He is just, He is just,” looking at their punisher with disgust, but cannot quench His wrath with such a wage. Our calculus is prone to soon forget just how His wrath must burn against all...
Aug 10, 2011 | Bible Story, Cain, Gus Stevens, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 1, Victorian Sonnet
My punishment is more than I can bear! He who finds me will kill me in the open field. Not so. Your crime, cannot cut short my care; your head will be, against such vengeance, sealed. And yet, from the ashes of Eden—length to length— you will roam the desert...
Aug 7, 2011 | Bible Story, Cain, Gus Stevens, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 1, Victorian Sonnet
You claim you are not your brother’s keeper, but I detect the absence of a proper fear. What will you say when I raise the sleeper? Though you have ears to hear, you do not hear. I begged you not to join your father’s war and his dreadful crimes not to...
Aug 2, 2011 | Commissioned, Gus Stevens, Humor, Picture Challenge, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet
Webster Wagner was born in Palatine just a stepping stone between Rome and Troy as you ride the old New York Central line from Albany straight west to Illinois. He built quite a home alongside the bridge, a mansion of the Mohawk Valley ‘tween the Adirondack and...
Jul 21, 2011 | Commissioned, Gus Stevens, Moss Kingdom, Picture Challenge, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet
Snow melts from these peaks feed not the Tiber but push the aging Auser’s modest mills. Common threads they keep, but silken fiber will be sold to greater Florence for her frills. When the Fuhrer the Gothic line made green to crop the conquest of his conquerors,...
Jul 18, 2011 | Gus Stevens, Irregular Rhyme, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 1
It has been the habit of your holy ones to grieve, their faces bent over an empty bowl, and in their fast they found you hotter than the cooking coal. Yet we can barely sit to pray, our stomachs full, and are lulled to sleep by a thousand bites; our bellies to our...
