Jun 15, 2014 | Gus Stevens, Italian Sonnet, Seasons, Sonnet, Spring
Walking one spring morning I weighed the cherry blossoms all brimming with new, full with such impossible hues that every petal, every blade, was like a schoolgirl at her promenade adorned for but an hour or two in reds or purples, pinks and blues before it’s...
Mar 25, 2013 | Gus Stevens, Seasons, Sonnet, Spring, Victorian Sonnet, Winter
There’s something of Spring that makes us self-deceive, that makes-believe the world has never sinned. A dozen squinting Adams search for Eve through a sunlight that’s not yet warmed the wind. Weary of winter, the clearing is brim full of hairless legs...
