Been trying to feel more free to stretch the meter a little bit. It’s frustrating, because my perfectionist little brain is howling, “Goddamnit, just tell me what makes a sonnet a sonnet! What rules CAN’T I break?” But of course, the reason we have Shakespearean sonnets is because Shakespeare broke the rules of Petrarch’s sonnets, didn’t he? If you’re good enough to accomplish the goal while breaking the rules, your rule-breaking is considered innovation.
So as with all art, the answer is that there are no rules you can’t break. The better you are, the more rules you will break. The rules, my friends, are a crutch. This is true in all things. The rules are a crutch we use until we have the ability to make good decisions on our own.
I just spit off the dome on this one, and it got pretty esoteric as a result. It’s possible I disappeared into my own navel, you tell me. Do I appear to be conveying meaning? Do you feel improved thereby?
Oh, and… if you don’t know what a View-Master is, this is your cue to get offa my lawn.
Ever feel like you’re just going to slip
sideways in time? When just for a moment
you don’t feel the weight of the years you misspent.
You taste someone else’s sweat on your lips.
The universe spins on your fingertips,
space-time is broken and gravity’s bent.
You turn your head to look where the fear went,
see billions of oceans, sinking their ships.
The film goes on skipping. You look for god,
find him with a View-Master stuck to his face,
clicking through the reel of one of your lives.
Self-conscious, you ask, “See anything odd?”
And he says, “I don’t blame you for your haste,
but how could you think you could get here with knives?”