Thursday, December 3, 2020

Valley of Aosta: Snowstorm, Avalanche and Thunderstorm (J.M.W. Turner), Sonnet #541

 











An avalanche exists in the abstract,

A violent snow and ice cataract,

Content without shape, without content,

A proliferation of the absent.

A blizzard wipes the air empty and white

And confuses real things with closed-eye night.

(Formlessness is a natural order,

An extremity without a border.)

The thunderstorm exposes the mountain

With splintering intensity; fountains

Of light define the crag, the slope, the tree —

Revealing only momentarily.

These words (also abstract) erase all forms

From the blankest page — revealing more storms.


With thanks to Jeff Strayer for the Turner suggestion.


My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase. Click here: My Human Disguise.

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