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The Duomo at Barga

The Duomo at Barga

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,...
The Fickle Devotion of a Saint

The Fickle Devotion of a Saint

Jul 17, 2011 | Sonnet, The Work of Greater Minds, Victorian Sonnet

Holy Sonnet 19 by John Donne Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one: Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot A constant habit; that when I would not I change in vows, and in devotion. As humorous is my contrition As my profane love, and as soon forgot: As riddlingly...
When Cats Grow Claws

When Cats Grow Claws

Jul 8, 2011 | Gus Stevens, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 1, Victorian Sonnet

From the ashes of Sinai, He commands us to eat no thing that has not hooves but paws for earth itself fell victim to our hands; the ground grows thorns and the cat has grown claws. To think, the lion once grazed like a goat but now he stalks the young and ill to maul—...
Flight of the Monarch

Flight of the Monarch

Feb 23, 2011 | Commissioned, Gus Stevens, Moss Kingdom, Picture Challenge, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet

Behold the prince, the winged monarch as he circles, circles in the midday breeze and in robes of orange and train of black could dark the skies and bring the impious to his knees. This army, in ever ancient loyalty, emerges from its chrysalis to fill the heavens with...
Silent Saturday

Silent Saturday

Feb 13, 2011 | Bible Story, Gus Stevens, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 2, Victorian Sonnet

Is this the one who would lay final claim to Great David’s old imperial throne, whose touch has cured an army of the lame but crawled our cobbled streets to die alone? Is this the “Coming One” we thought would reign, his head with glory’s...
The Birth of Cain

The Birth of Cain

Feb 13, 2011 | Bible Story, Cain, Gus Stevens, Sonnet, The Unspeakable Name vol. 1, Victorian Sonnet

The rising white of a blister on my hand is my blood guilt, my token from the fall— this and the damned weeds that curse the land with stains from our black revolt—our cabal with the snake against heaven’s highest king. Now everything is taken by the thorn and...
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