November 27th: A Lot To Celebrate

November Twenty-seventh, ev'ry year
Just overwhelms me, even when it's not
Thanksgiving. 'Twas my Grandpa's time to cheer
And celebrate his natal day. That got
The rest its start; my parents married on
That day, then some years later, Sister Kris
Was born, and stole the hearts of all. Jack's gone,
My grandfather, but there's no time to miss
Him when there's so much yet to celebrate!
Two writing friends of mine have birthdays, too,
Today. Last year I set myself a great
And noble task, a sonnet for each. Phew!
This year, tired from Thanksgiving, I use one
To hail them all and send my love, ere done.

In Which I Am Slightly Late To Jeremy C. Shipp's Birthday Party

I fear that I'm a few short hours late

In wishing happy birthday to a man

Whose stories I love so. I feel less Kate

For not knowing till now. But I'm a fan

And better late than never, I shall say!

O Jeremy, your stories break my heart

And bend my mind in such a crazy way

How can I aught but love you, for my part?

I hope the gnomes and Mrs. J gave you

The day you wanted most, and that the clowns

That fill your attic kept well away, too.

May this next year be full of more profound

And lovely work to haunt us from your brain

To all our eyes and ears, is my refrain.

In Which I Thank My Medicine Men

It takes strange tools to patch a torn-up heart,
Takes songs and tales and poetry and play.
Comes time for me to thank those who, in part
Have made or done the things which, I may say,
Have proven the best medicine for me.
Phil Rossi wrote a song that e'en before
The hardest blow came down did help me see
A light at tunnel's end. And there is more:
For Jeremy Shipp's novel did a lot,
As did a poem by Gregory Wright
He wrote just for me, to tell me I'm not
Alone, not even in the darkest night.
Thanks too, to my White Rabbit and John Ladd:
Chess therapy is good, too, when I'm sad.

SONNET DUET: A Sonnet-Form Interview With The Lewis Carroll Of Horror Himself

Sonneteer's Note: What follows is a literary experiment that only the foolhardiest of fools like myself and novelist Jeremy C. Shipp would ever try. To learn more about my partner in sonnetation, check out his website at http://www.jeremycshipp.com/

O Jeremy, what drives you so to write?
O Kate, I live to write and write to live.
O Jeremy, what do you fear by night?
A ballerina clown who holds a shiv.
Vacation's strange; what does it mostly mean?
The systems of our world don’t honor life.
How relevant is it to today's scene?
The book itself, it spawned from modern strife.
O Jeremy, from what do your tales stem?
My horror and my love of this strange Earth.
O Jeremy, these gnomes, what's up with them?
My gnomic friends, they never lose their mirth.
So tell us now 'bout your new novel, Cursed.
The characters unite to fight the worst.

SONNET REVIEW: Jeremy C. Shipp's Vacation

A Lewis Carroll world is Jer'my Shipp's:
Its denizens are fiercer, though, and drag
Protagonists along on fearsome trips
Through their own minds and fears. Jeremy's bag
Of tricks is subtler than just monster tales.
A missing twin like dear old Phillip Dick's,
A revolution in the making, bales
Of unknown drugs and cultures, Meek and Tics
In endless war (the Third Word and the First)
Fog up this mirror world. Into this, toss
A hapless teacher, living out his worst
And dearest dreams at once. And while his loss
On this Vacation seems at first severe,
The affirmation he gains made me cheer.