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...
Sep 1, 2013 | Autumn, Gus Stevens, Quatrains, Seasons, Summer
The tyrant sun with unforgiving light bends the boys and girls like the August wheat. He makes them strip their clothes and beg for night like mountains made immodest in the heat. Rustling in a windless night, they seethe and sweat in anguish—should they cut their...
Apr 16, 2013 | Gus Stevens, Quatrains, Seasons, Winter
These twirling billions born in storms of grey descend forever from such unseen heights that Summer’s sons are hypnotized to pray for Winter not to waste her wealth of white. Share this:Share Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Pinterest...
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...
Feb 13, 2011 | Gus Stevens, Regret, Seasons, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet, Winter
By some unjust miracle I awoke again today. How? When the wasted days and hours accumulate like a grey cloak of soot-heavy snow; the sweet-sick malaise sticks and smothers me. Regret, my old friend, tucks me to sleep under these covers, while, minute-by-minute, the...
