Or possibly the number 2,190. Or 2,191, accounting for leap years. One sonnet a day, every day, for six years.
In summer 2008, I was between projects, as I possibly am now. What if I never had another idea? (What if I don’t?) Inspired by Marilyn Hacker’s Love, Death and the Changing of the Seasons, and probably sick of my moaning about not having any ideas, Max Regan suggested I try writing a sonnet a day. I decided on wrap-around sonnets. The end of today is the beginning of tomorrow. The first line on the first day: this is the graveyard of selves. Bit gloomy there.
Today’s first line: and how the pieces fit together.
Tomorrow, which is to say next year, will begin: the longest day and how I live it.
Here are some things to know about the number 6:
- It is my mother’s favourite number. I don’t know why. I should ask her.
- It is Bert’s favourite number (see youtube).
- It is the smallest perfect number. I don’t know what that means. I could google it, but I haven’t yet and probably won’t.
- I have never been to a Six Flags Amusement Park. I’m okay with that.
- Of course, there are devilish associations when too many 6’s get together. Also, Hexa- is Classical Greek for 6. We could make something of that. Sex- is the Latin prefix. We could make something of that too.
Tomorrow, I’ll begin year seven. Also, it will be the summer solstice. And my Auntie Anna’s birthday. And Bhanu Kapil’s birthday. And the 2,192nd poem. Every day is new. And every poem.