This is very clever and very well done, and yet...and yet...I wonder if it has any chances for survival beyond a web site or specialized journal appealing to the kind of individuals (us) who are absorbed in technique as well as poem. Is it something of a rare orchid? Does it try to accomplish too much? Are these questions legitimate? (The answer, in all cases, is a resounding "I'm not sure.")

Innovative but not mere novelty. It reminds me of Jules Laforgue. The last stanza is photogenic, whimsical and has the sense of inevitability.

It's pretty and shit, but also clever, and that means the world to me. This might be my favorite.

One thing, is the epigraph needed? The Brecht song is already alluded to in the title. It seems unnecessary to include title, epigraph, and then have a translation of said epigraph in the body of the poem.

I agree with O. Screw the housekeeping nits. This is your winner, and the epigraph is superfluous.

RM

I like this one very much, including the epigraph. Its over-the-top romance is balanced by a wry self-awareness.

Susan

Yeah, I agree - this one is there, even though it's not quite there yet.

Frank

The idea of expressing the pain of unrequited love in terms of the danger of the conjunction “and” is the most distinctive concept of the contenders. And the interjections of incomplete pairings of lovers are inventive and effective.

The situation appears to be that the woman, who according to the song is stranded in Burma, is having a conversation with Johnny. I am left with questions about how the song and the poem relate to one another: Surabaya v. Burma; how her reply relates to his question; what the snakes imply (Medusa and Poseidon?); and how the poem’s ending fits the song situation.

John

The song 'Surabaya' has such a huge part in this sonnet, from the title to the epigraph to the text, that by rights you should suspect that the couple in the sonnet are Johnny and the woman who loves him. But I can't get away from my impression that's it's simply a couple who hasn't yet capitulated to love. Desire is there between them, the moon and sea provide the romantic backdrop, but the woman in the poem is setting herself against love, which she sees as synonymous with tragedy. In essence she's saying, "I'm not going to fall in love", and she goes off (in the wonderful ending line) to chase away the (romantic) moon, which "has no business there". The man in the poem could well be "a rogue" (of the charming type) -- there's something about the way he plucks a reed and coos a lazy air that gives me that impression. And of course the woman in the poem (who no doubt is attracted to him) knows it. That's my own take on the couple and the sonnet -- which I've read numerous times now. It's exquisite, and I admire it hugely.

This seems to me JUST the sort of subject for a sonnet. I like it a lot and I don't pay much heed to the thought that it's too technical for the crowd. caviare to the general in fact.

Thank you to everyone for so many interesting and helpful thoughts, and for liking the poem beyond all my expectations. Sorry about the various oddities of layout. A lot of brain-racking went into the punctuation, and I still have some work to do on that. Thanks Cathy for very helpful editing suggestions.

It's very reassuring that the overall outcome isn't too weird.

Sorry again for missing the main part of the event, but what a treat it's been reading all these great sonnets and comments since my return.