I will write you everything in just one line
and you can call it any name you choose
syllables and line counts cannot define
what is or isn’t a sonnet, or the truth.
As honestly as I can, I will write
what I feel in the simplest language, use
no embellishments, nothing to turn and writhe
at the ends of octaves and quickly form
the premise and endless counter argument.
No snake gobbling its tail, not a huge word-storm
in a small teacup. One line, then fall silent.
And it’ll still be a sonnet, though the normof iambs and fourteen shall be absent.