ONE-SENTENCE SONNETS
I
I’m on my way and shall not stop
until
I’ve filled this sonnet’s form
right to the end.
Following the pattern that great
Will
Shakespeare preferred, with help
my Muse may lend,
And, if I may, I’ll make a tour de force
A sonnet that’s a single sentence
long
Yet seems completely uncontrived,
unforced,
As in the dawn you hear a robin‘s
song
That thrills you with commodious
melody
And leaves you then inspired to
try your own
In emulation of that prodigy,
Hoping you may indeed usurp its
throne
Proving yourself as skillful as the Bard
By making something difficult seem not
hard.
II
If this were the last sonnet that
I write—
Fear not, since that is surely
not the case—
What would I say, perhaps to give
insight
Into what I experience as Grace
When I sit down to muse and to
compose
And out of nowhere notions start
to flow
And, if I’m patient, take me to
its close
Where I discover what I did not
know
When I began, which leaves me
feeling blessed
And wondering what Providence
prevails,
As if I were by grace itself
possessed
That brings such new creation
into being
In imitation of its holy ways,
That Source which warrants our eternal
praise.