A Fibonacci sonnet: “Cold. Dark.”
September 7th, 2007
Cold. Dark.
Crunching gravel. Sneakers gaining speed. Some kind of fool running.
Who would be out in weather like this? This hour of the morning is perfect for burrowing snug in the bed. Yet this rocket scientist feels the need to be out in the wet, torturing his body, boiling his sweat into steam.
I can just see the running journals on the desk, the spreadsheets bedecked with careful formulae of mileage, the marathon finisher shirts in the drawer, the scientific shoes, the microlite socks of the obsessed.
Actually, this run is not so bad, now that it’s getting going, though it is a bit colder than I expected. This is nothing compared to the ice that Christmas we spent in Montana. Running in that, I admit, was genuinely crazy. This is routine by comparison.
Nice morning run. Headed home. Warm. Dry.
September 8th, 2007 at 11:33 am
[…] [If it need be said, all of these things are fictional.] […]
December 13th, 2007 at 12:12 pm
[…] Countless examples from the world of art support the idea that tight contraints can foster great creativity. For an easy set of examples, consider the formal patterns of poetry; the haiku, sonnet, and sestina forms, for example, have provided a playground for poets as great as Shakespeare and Issa. One of my favorite constrained forms is the Fibonacci sonnet, in which you write a story with successive sentences that have the same number of words as the corresponding entry in the Fibonacci sequence of numbers. (I’ve composed a few of these.) […]