Monday, October 16, 2006

Mr. Faust--He dead.

I was able to get the computer repaired for $106 after ripping the phone jack out of it accidentally. The shop couldn't fix it; I would have had to send it back to the factory; but for the above price, I got another card with a phone jack that slips in where my wireless card also goes. So my Guiness Record for continuing sonnets continues.

Mr. Faust—He dead.

The kettle barbecue is slick with rain.
Redwood fronds surround it. Up above
Clouds feather in and out; white pinions strain,
Give way to sun and cover it as they move.
My heart is open. I have no regrets
Worthy of crucifixion. I am whole
And wounded. I have paid off all my debts
Though not a betting man. My given role
Of doctor, teacher, writer, I accept.
We all must own aspects we didn’t plan for.
No one grows up wanting to be a janitor.
I have no reputation to protect.
My former dreams of prominence now amuse me.
No seraphim in white could disabuse me.

It's my birthday tomorrow, the big 52, no more excuses, I'm playing with a full deck. A little melancholy today, maybe 0.5 kilorats.

Thine in Truth and Art,

Craig Erick


  1. Happy birthday CE,

    I've enjoyed your sonnet marathon.


  2. Thanks, enjoy your company.

  3. Anonymous3:48 AM PDT

    Happy Birthday today c.e. I hope you will be feeling some warm fuzzy kilo bunnies!!

  4. Happy Birthday. Getting your computer fixed for a reasonable price is a good present.


  5. Best to you CE on your birthday. Enjoyed the poem. What a thought -- "We all must own aspects we didn’t plan for." Yes.

  6. Happy birthday, a little early. A full deck, indeed! (Try not to get shuffled. Or cut. Or marked.)

  7. Thanks, all.

    What should I say?

    Say nothing and be grateful.

  8. Anonymous6:37 AM PDT

    Happy Birthday CE:

    I said once before you had a Faustian complex. Perhaps it was manic-driven, but you thought you could be everthing. Judging by your farflung resume, you made as good a try as anyone could in this age of fragmented diversification (a nice word for alienation?).

    Part of growing up I think is realizing that you must fall far short of being everything, and instead be something. If I were you, I'd claim your singular calling as a poet. I think you have the talent for it.

    take care

  9. Great Blog sir.
    Your poetry is rich and nourishing. I believe I will help myself to a long drink, if you don’t mind. With much admiration,

  10. Thanks, Norm, thoughtful analysis. The tail of that black dog can only carry you so far before the road burns on your knees force you to give up.

    And r.d.a., to have my poetry called nourishment is a great compliment. Unlike many current poets who nibble around the edges of things, fearful of conclusions, I like to say something in my poems--not rhetorical by any means, just something.


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