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Writing a Sonnet
Each appearance of the muse is different.
Then the workmanship begins.

Read the latest version at the top first
or start at the bottom to see how the sonnet formed.

As I reflect on these drafts, 
I see how critical it is to get the sound right.
And the proper title, in this case.




9. 
In Another Universe, Isaac Newton Falls in Love 

"The fitful tracing of a portal" --Wallace Stevens
We sense transcendent presences will last, 
yet all tight windings soldered in the brain, 
gesticulations now, shaped by the past, 
distrust such intimations, disdain, feign. 
For our anesthetizing, digital 
reality is commerce more than creed; 
we see our lives played out as fictional, 
a flat identity, procumbent greed. 

Though quantum nothingness quakes minds aghast, 
here is this tree, this soil, this sky, this you 
and me in this fine kiss, eternal, fast, 
delicious, bold, our end and our debut. 

This waking tremble world makes us its guest; 
it radiates, tumbles words, breath to rest. 


8. 
In Another Universe, Isaac Newton Falls in Love

We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all tight windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations, disdain, feign.
For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

Though quantum nothingness quakes minds aghast,
here is this tree, this soil, this sky, this you 
and me in this fine kiss, eternal, fast, 
in what is real, our end and our debut. 

This waking, tremble world makes us its guest;
it radiates, tumbles words, breath to rest. 


7. 
In Another Universe, Isaac Newton Falls in Love

We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all these windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. What's to gain?--
For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

Though quantum nothingness quakes minds aghast,
here is this tree, this soil, this sky, this you 
and me in this fine kiss, eternal, fast, 
in what is real, our end and our debut. 

This waking world (words tremble, tumble, rest)
radiates, a breath given to each guest. 


6. 
No universe, no kiss

We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all these windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. Do we strain?--
For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

Though quantum nothingness quakes minds aghast,
here is this tree, this soil, this sky, this you 
and me in this fine kiss, eternal, fast, 
in what is real, our end and our debut. 

This waking world (words tremble, tumble, rest)
radiates, a breath given to each guest. 
 

5
We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all those windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. Are we sane?--
For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

And so this tree, this soil, this sky, this you
and me in this fine kiss (eternal, vast)
is what is real, our end and our debut;
the quantum everywhere is always cast.

This waking (where words tremble, tumble, rest)
radiates, a breath given to each guest. 

There could be nothing, but the guize of time
and space is ours to share and find sublime.
and space is ours to mime and stay sublime.
and space is ours to claim sublime and mime.


4.
We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all those windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. Are they sane?

For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

And so this tree, this soil, this sky, this you
and me in this fine kiss (eternal, vast)
is what is real, our end and our debut;
the quantum everywhere is always cast.

kiss bliss

This waking, where words tremble, and we kiss
and breathe the cosmic fact within our bliss. 

words tremble, tumble, rest)
radiates, a breath given from God's Guest. 


3. 
We sense transcendent presences will last,
yet all those windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. Are they sane?
For our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed;
we see our lives played out as fictional,
a flat identity, procumbent greed.

And so this tree, this soil, this sky, this you
and me in this embrace, eternal, vast,
is what is real, our end and our debut;
the quantum everywhere is always cast.

Words tremble, tumble from their places and breath stops

kiss
bliss
This waking where words tremble, tumble, stop

radiation


2. 
We sense transcendent presences so vast!
yet all those windings soldered in the brain,
gesticulations now, shaped by the past,
distrust such intimations. Are they sane?

when our anesthetizing, digital
reality is commerce more than creed
and see our lives played out as fictional.


1. FIRST DRAFT

We sense a transcendent presence so vast
when our anesthetizing, digital
gesticulations run out at last
and see our lives fictional.

Idea: The sacred is at the periphery of our awareness, and the distractions of our commercial culture push it further from our consciousness. Yet moments arise when we sense its grandeur and we are grateful to behold this mystery, for there could have been nothing, no universe, no being, at all.
 


 
I woke. A dream insinuating ease
erased my ognorance. Restolved to self,
a character whose unrehearsed degrees
like action toys arrayed upon a shelf

by accident or stirm or blindfolded god,