It’s kind of scary to be hopeful.
You got one of these that does asses.
All consciousness is consciousness of.
Half of what I say is meaningless.
The morphine barely takes the edge off.
Keep talking but don’t use any names.
I guess I’ve always lived upside down.
Your buccal cavity is your mouth.
Reading only caused me misery.
These words are almost like animals.
I can only think of myself as existing, and as existing the way I exist; thus, I cannot but
exist, and always exist as I exist now.
Note on the Text
These 555 sonnets are made with found lines and precise measures, a database and text analytic software. I crunched Shakespeare’s sonnets for word, syllable and character averages — my new measures. The lines’ oddities are their own, the arrangement is mine. After the text analytics and data entry, many ways of assembling are found. I hold to the turn (when I think of it) and that sonnets are poems of a certain size, but little more. Something in excess of the lines passes through, it’s this that I’m chasing.
John Lowther’s work appears in The Lattice Inside and Another South, and Held to the Letter (with Dana Lisa Young) is forthcoming. He works in video, photography, paint and performance. His dissertation-in-progress tries to reimagine psychoanalysis with intersex and transgender lives as pointers toward our ever-expanding subjective potential. His website: http://lowtherpoet.wordpress.com.