Imperfect Sonnet
by Michael R. Burch

A word before the light is doused: the night
is something wriggling through an unclean mind,
as rats creep through a tenement. And loss
is written cheaply with the moon’s cracked gloss
like lipstick through the infinite, to show
love’s pale yet sordid imprint on us. Go.

We have not learned love yet, except to cleave.
I saw the moon rise once ... but to believe ...
was of another century ... and now ...
I have the urge to love, but not the strength.

Despair, once stretched out to its utmost length,
lies couched in squalor, watching as the screen
reveals “love’s” damaged images: its dreams ...
and ******* limply, screams and screams.

Originally published by Sonnet Scroll

Keywords/Tags: tenement, rats, unclean, cheap, sordid, despair, squalor, TV, screen, sonnet, limp, limply, screams

Let’s be alone together
At the Starbucks a mile from here
It doesn’t matter which one because we are all together
Making sure the connectivity is near

On our laptops we tunnel into reality
I predisposed emotional wasteland of hopes and dreams
Do we work or do we escape out of this present piece?
Of time and space we manifested in this dream

The English language cannot describe everything
Simulation is such a weak word you see
It seems like something that is on our screens
But in reality we are the screen