Thursday, June 17, 2021

Entity (Michael Antman), Sonnet #567


 












It’s too soon to write about it.

I prefer Spinoza’s spirit,

Its embodiment of rainbows,

No holier than house sparrows.

It’s all perhaps a point of view,

Nothing is preternatural,

Just perpetually new,

A pride before there is no fall.

I stand inside an open door.

Indirect sunlight suffuses

The hallway with its sweet odor —

Even motes of dust have uses.

Outside a statue of mother

Asks, “Are you you, or some other?”


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

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