Sonnet Number Absolute Zero • from 54 poems at 27

Author’s note: to be read on infinite loop

 

Enough to still the movements no one sees
in statue, ice, or iron or the trees
which chip, melt, ring, sprout leaves. Presences still
.     Presences having their fill – face frees face
freeze face (my worry in Unworried Will) –
of one another linked :: moment and place ::
lesser in Greater (greatest, then Greater)
until my lesser freezes. Enough to…

This is the way Ice Ages can conceive,
can by unmoving move the world to be.
They tell me, “Worlds can only grow so hot
before they burn out, ours will burn out soon.”
Then, having fizzled, freeze amniotic.

Can I expend my energy to freeze?
To move to stop before I’m out of moves?

 

 

 


 

 

about the 54 @ 27 ::

 

It’s that time again!

When I was 23, I read this stupid article that claimed the perfect age for writing quality poetry is twenty-three. Well I freaked out like I do and cranked out work like I can and it resulted in 46 poems written at 23. A year passed, I calmed down, then I freaked out again two years later and wrote another bunch of poems called 50 at 25, all written before I turned 26 on April Thirtyish.

Will I keep up this twice-my-age regimen on the odd years? Who knows.

But this year?

This year I’m trying a more holistic approach. 54 poems crammed into next spring will kill me, guaranteed. But one a week? That’s doable and the blog has languished of late. One a week-ish I can do.

So let’s do this thing.

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  1. sedula

    This one is excellent. Like to read it in a loop. I have been away for awhile. Read your awesome news about your Apt. Cool! Didn’t Galahad find the holy grail?

    1. lanceschaubert

      Galahad. Yes, he did, whoops. Eh… it made for a good story, right?

      Thanks so much for the compliments. Hoped to kick it of with a bang.

      Or anti-bang, as the case may be.

      Okay, not with a bang, but a whimper.

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

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