Shakespeare Sonnet #14

{Callie's Version}

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,
And yet methinks I have astronomy—
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find.
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
 Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
 Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.

-William Shakespeare

Can't pluck judgement or anything from stars
and what does "have astronomy" mean? To
know what shines in the dark, or the scars
that put the light there? Or is it both? Knew
you - surely - art comes from the heft of night
and the insistent twinkle that breaks through.
Truth and beauty shall together take flight
the marks they leave, like cairns. Look! Here they grew.
Here they grow next to me in this Starbucks
nails clacking on keys, their voices a pitch
I no longer catch; like sunbeams dust struck
when I walk through that light trying to sift
through and catch the dirt that also sparkles.
Try to pluck stars, and we're left with partials.

-Callie Feyen