The position is ludicrous, the pleasure is momentary, the expense is damnable.
The sentence completes its signification only with its last term.
All I need is a sheet of paper and something to write with, and then I can turn the world
What we’ve earned is the prerogative of going out with a whimper.
Others gather daily in centers set up to protect them.
Hate, as a relation to objects, is older then love.
Bad weather likes work days.
It ends with reliance on cosmic goodity.
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.