Perhaps Sonnet #1 will follow.
Wake now my gray and faceless sleeping friends.
Rise all of you. 'Tis only eyes are closed.
Your silent rage, persistent in demands
will to my unjust judge be sage widow.
Listen, desires, somehow meet, unmet,
God gives good gifts to those who plainly ask.
I too submit to relentless trumpet.
To give you eyes, a tongue, will be my task.
You sly and steady indestructibles
must come with me into the light of day
where you'll call out in answer to a call,
where we will toss and jog and feign and play.
Sad small gray ones, why simmer like a wreck?
Your rightful fear--I aim to break your neck.
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