Sonnet

SONNET

I grab the largest hairnet
and die like John Coltrane

but first I floss my chompers
like castle ramparts

the tartar like archers
I sing of my own back

a desire to paint
great bitterness

war isn’t good
I dunk in night

in my idea of John Coltrane playing flute
squirrels are in the galaxy

squirrels are in the galaxy
and light from a window falls

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From a homophonic translation of Heine.

And...I'm undecided whether the last line should end 'fails' or 'falls': the former is, uh, darker; the latter, brighter.