My Own Private Ulysses: My Own Public American Sonnet

My Own Public American Sonnet

I’ll give it a go, this American

Show and tell. Oh, my meter’s already blown.

Yeah, no, just own it: Yell instead of show.

I am jamming iambs up my pentameter, da-DUM, da-DUM…

I left motif in the dirt, dropped rhyme down the drain.

What a pain. Why’s this hurt? Why’m I not numb,

Or dumber? What if I like to paint by numbers?

Too many questions when you’re plumb full of freedom.

But Joyce is supposed to be my model,

My muse. He broke every lock of the book.

So why can’t I give it a try,

This entitled, unexceptional ruse?

There is a price for this American title:

Forget the past. Forgo the rules. Forfeit the vital.