Ah Will, you were ever the romantic! Except for when you were the tragic prophetic voice beaming out of Stratford on Avon. From my readings tonight, I give you this fine nugget, reader, culled from Sonnet 76:
“O know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument.
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.”
I find that what pricks my pen seems to be a convergence of the same thing, but viewed from another angle of its prism-like shape. If you leave me a comment with email address, I will send you my latest poem inspired by Jonah. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite- they’re nasty little critters!
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