What Sonnets Mean

for John Klavins

You know how clamour rhymes with glamour, right?
That's all there is, noise filling up my brain
While listening to thunder, while the rain
Beats on the tin roof through the starless night.
No, I'm not waiting for slivers of light,
Or new methods for dealing with the strain,
I can't remember how to stanch the pain,
I just hear clamour, glamour, bathed in fright.

When every thought is how sonnets are made
Once they get started, I'm ready to start
As soon as one idea about art
Hits home. I give each rhyme a letter grade
(It's C for Ambuscade, E for Evade,
S H for Shade), and prick my ears apart.