Two hundred sonnets--quite a hefty sum
by any standard, most folks would agree.
Break out the champagne, diet coke, and rum,
and raise a glass to such tenacity.
Two-thirds a year or so of daily toil
of running through the alphabet for rhyme
(like this: first boil, then coil, then hydrofoil--
that's how these things get done, most of the time).
I know the quality has fallen off
since long ago I first took up my quill,
but if my verse should make the critics scoff
I hope at least to be praised for my will.
Who knows if in the end it's worth the while;
Still, if it's shit, at least it's quite a pile.