If I told you my secrets you’d never look at me the same again.
I’d like a life-sized pizza.
Come here till I punch you.
But I’m terrible at it.
I’m not interested in work that is polite or work that is “nice.”
Take these shackles off of me.
I don’t have a career plan.
So does this qualify as a break-through.
I am consumed by beauty.
It speaks but doesn’t know what it is saying or whether you are listening.
I thank God I was raised Catholic, so sex will always be dirty.
Ditto, I’d rather be bald.
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.