Traditionally a series of seven sonnets, a crown of sonnets is united by a common theme. The last line of the first sonnet is the first line of the second sonnet, the last line of the second is the first line of the third, and so forth. The crown closes when the last line of the final sonnet becomes the first line of the first sonnet, forming a circle.
A heroic crown of sonnets follows the same model with 15 sonnets. My impulse was to create 13 sonnets, all based on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and it was somehow fitting to call the series an Olympian Crown. I played a bit with the form, shifting rhyme schemes and tweaking a couple repeated lines, but tried to remain fairly reverent.
The Corner of Your Eye is a Continent
(on the void between heaven and earth)
You’ll listen well because I tell you to.
You’re entering a mischievous expanse.
Sense and order’s none of our purview.
Disordered neurons flaunt their queer romance.
They’re plastered in their punk ballet, a frieze,
and in odd bas-relief, go through their moves.
Chaos rarely bothers saying “please,”
it tricks and trips to track into its groove.
This void abhors itself as law demands—
the sight will hit your gut just like a punch.
Glance sideways. It’s too bright, you understand.
This mad mitosis could serve you for lunch.
There’s no such thing as nothing: All is one.
Stay if you like, but leave before the sun.