Sonnet for Ankh

This morning I got up, put on a pot of coffee, and re-read Auden’s Musee des Beaux Arts (Hank’s mention), followed by William Carlos Williams’ Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. The pumps all primed, I wrote this sonnet and posted it to my blog to commemorate our time together at the Beaux Arts Library of Congress.


Now I have all the fountain pens I need:
one stores empyrean blue – I save it
for ceremonies; two for writing poems
use my private mixture of navy blue
and forest green – I call it navy green;
and one to highlight when and where I read –
its name is firefly (but truth be told,
I add a drop of navy green for depth
and taste). There are complaints each time I mix
my inks or fill my pens – imagine if
I were a painter? But that logic
gets me no consolation. Horace wrote
about a link between the two. Again,
no sympathy inside this loving house.



#NaPoWriMo is right around the corner! I can’t just let it past. I must try to do my part!

We’ll be here, and on Facebook, and on Twitter under #napowrimo, #glopowrimo and #intpowrimo.

Let the good times roll!

From the archives – Still Life

my ideal still life painting would contain
a non-microwave-safe cup and saucer,
a piece of ripened fruit, a wind up watch
with a leather band, and a book, hardbound,

with several bookmarks and tabs. On a desk.
And maybe reading glasses, depending
on the reader’s (and the painter’s) needs.
I’d stare at that canvas, and wonder

if my subject drank tea or coffee, hot
or lukewarm like I like it. I’d wonder
does the book have poetry inside it,
the bookmarks and tabs for his (her) favorite

passages. I’d hang it beside my wife’s
painting of the river ferry crossing.