This is the eighth sonnet of a crown. For the first sonnet, see below.
The ninth poem begins here:
Before you hit that unsubscribe button for a spite of cheekiness, take a moment to understand the difficulties made in creating this poem. If it will help, I’ll set each poem next to each other.
The best way of reading these poems is to click (or tap) on the first image, and then scroll through each image on the page.
Note we are at the volta. There are six poems left, in which a turn takes place. We are leaving our concierge and fat tourist in the silence of fallen structure. There will be firm ground again.
