Feb 13, 2011 | Gus Stevens, Sinner's Psalms vol. 2, Sonnet, Victorian Sonnet
It’s no use to stoke the coals of my discontent with the damp leaves of weak desires. My prayers are not the incense in its swirling ascent; they are the sticky haze of the still-green brier’s blaze, and I am smothered in the smoke. I long still to be...
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...
