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Thirteenth Sonnet As triskadekaphobia haunts this page I knock on wood and straighten my horseshoes, Abandon reason, logic disengage, And calculate aspects of Betelgeuse. Tonight I'll howl and sing songs to the moon, Performing rituals that the sun may rise; To magic tales of shamans old I'll swoon And fall into a trance with fierce, glazed eyes. I'll dream of campfires in an ancient gorge That saved the Clan from beasts that roamed the night. And Ancestors, whose very genes still forge My life, will speak to me in flickering light. Tomorrow myth and reason I'll compare. Tomorrow if, in fact, the sun is there. |
Additional Notes:
This sonnet is an example (Like the sonnet "Utah" also submitted on this date.) of one of the reoccurring themes in my work... the reality and importance of that base of knowledge and symbolism that is encoded into the genetic makeup of all humans, everyone, everywhere. Some call this "racial memory"; Jung called them "archetypes", the name I prefer. Like Jung, I believe that we have an inborn knowledge of things like the significance of fire, the cycles of the moon, the seasons, the cycles of life and death and rebirth, etc.
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