Sharon,
In general, formally, I think the sonnet works well, with all the variations
you have played on traditional rhyme schemes, but I would chime in with the
others on the problem with "We walk along its surface/pretending not to
notice it can toss/us off at a whim," though I realize I am quoting more
than either Dominic or Alison did. For me, the problem begins with the fact
that I don't believe the lines in a factual sense. Whether the referent of
"it" is the earth or the earth's path--and I think you could argue it could
be either--it would take a good deal more than a whim (the disruption of
gravity and so on, aside from the fact that I'm not sure what it means for
the earth to have a whim) for "it" to toss us off, either in the way that
you mean or in any other connotative possibility--unless I am reading the
lines entirely wrong or have missed a reference to a god somewhere in the
poem, because, of course, a god's whim could accomplish anything. This
confusion of meaning is reflected, I think, in the formal weakness of the
line break separating "toss" from "us," and in the emphasis that I don't
think functions of forcing the next line to begin and end with the word
"us." And I should say as well that this confusion of meaning and form, for
me, makes it hard to be persuaded by the move you make in the next
sentence/lines with "It reclaims us...."
But, you ask if the poem is worth working on and I say absolutely yes. Up
until the problematic parts I just described the poem works wonderfully and
makes me want to know how it will work itself out in the end.
Hope this helps--
Richard
Spring Equinox 02005
Each morning I remind myself what day
this is, to place myself within the human
community. These calendars, these dates
are not real things, but merely human
impositions on the sun, the moon,
the stars, which all will follow their own paths
whether we name them or not. These weeks past
our blue earth's path is changed by its own
deep spasm. We walk along its surface
pretending not to notice it can toss
us off at a whim. It reclaims us
millimeter by millimeter, loose
flesh and slow bones, smoky dusks and brilliant
noons -- all sacrificial celebrants.
--
Sharon Brogan
http://www.sbpoet.com
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