Transcendental Sonnet #1080:
Your Four More Years Become Infinity

I have noticed when anyone educated
Tries to explain why on earth they would vote for Bush
They become quite flushed and rather addlepated

They labor against logic to explain this push
In this most counterintuitive direction
Inexplicable rejection and defection
Of and from all which education has held dear
Down through these ages and I must ask: is it fear
Which turns good people into fundamentalists
Which makes them co-conspirators of Ashcroft's lists?

America seems lost and gone now: is it all too late
To save this place of such potential which we love so well?
My friends my fellow citizens I warn you of our fate:
Your four more years become infinity when spent in hell



+Steven Curtis Lance

Copyright MMIV Silke LLC

Sympathies! In the UK it's not defection; rather it's defecation.

A very good Sonnet.A pleasure to read,my Love.

*Kindliche Wundermärchen über Wandeln auf dem Wasser und Wiederauferstehung eines Toten werden umso eher als Wunder geglaubt, je weniger die eigene Bildung dazu befähigt, die tatsächlichen Wunder des Mikrokosmos des Universums und der unendlich komplizierten Systeme des Lebens auch nur annähernd als solche wahrzunehmen. Was hilft alle Aufklärung, alles Licht, wenn die Leute entweder keine Augen haben oder die, die sie haben, vorsätzlich verschließen....*

(Ich Liebe dich)

Silke

Thank you so much, honey, and thank you for your wise words in German. I just wish you were here to snuggle with me; we are having a flood and my furnace has flooded out, so I am starting to feel very cold. I think I will have to roll up in a blanket with my cat on top of me for warmth, because it's pouring rain outside, and the water is pretty deep down in the cellar anyway... I will have to wait for all of this to recede a little.

Between worrying about the flood, the power failure we had a bit ago, and my EarthLink acting up, I really feel like there were a few good sonnets which didn't get written... Grrr... Also I was just obsessing about everything in general due to the anxiety of it all.

Maybe if I roll up in a blanket, get Fred on top, and just have my writing hand sticking out, I can yet come up with a good sonnet... there certainly is enough drama going on both above and below me, although it makes me feel sick and cold more than inspired, really...

In any case, I love you so much, and I'm so glad you like my sonnets. I write them all for you.

I see that your book has shipped to you, so it shouldn't be long now until you have it; I hope you like it. It's for you...

I love you, honey. It's getting cold in this draughty old haunted house of mine; I'd better roll up with the cat and try to ride it out. I won't float away though; the house is up high off the ground. It's just the cellar which floods, but there goes my heat. Bother.

I will think of you, and dream of you waking or sleeping (as dreaming I might be, with Fred purring on me).

Thank you so much for loving such a strange old formalist poet...

You're the best, Dr. Lance. I'm crazy about you. And then too, of course, I'm also just crazy... but especially about my beautiful butterfly bride.

*~Amin mela ile~*

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

P. S.: I just got an idea! I will drink some more of that tea you sent me; that will warm me up. I love you.

It seems to me America needs alittle down time after the crap we've been doing.....*grumble grumble* And better candidates *grumble*.....Nevertheless, I do love this place, and I believe that we will make amends in time. Have faith, Steven! Someday we will have a great president again.

~Much Love~
Megan

you are just truly amazing.

misty..

Four more years of Bush, I may leave the country...