Shakespeare's Sonnets (published in 1609 but mostly written in the 1590s) offer surprises everywhere, but two big ones in particular. These relate to the plot and to the range of the poet's passionate feeling. The story line has the makings of a high suspense love drama, but the author wants, more crucially, to explore his thoughts on a myriad of topics in what feels like verse journaling - moody, mercurial, unpredictable, and intense. That's why the genre of the narrative hovers between a play and what we'd now call a psychological novel. Complicating both the dramatic tension and the introspective depth is the bisexual range of the poet's passionate temperament. The fact that his boyfriend and mistress are attracted to each other will account for some of the strong conflicts in the speaker's mind. But the wild oscillations of his feeling toward each of them are also rooted in his widely receptive sexual nature. I'm a dialogic poet, carrying on a long tradition of friendly rivalry among verse writers. Here I undertake a book-length dialogue in sonnets with Shakespeare. The best way to respond to a poem that won't let go of you is to write another poem and try to make it worthy of the first. Often I sum up a lyric from a new perspective. Or I'll respond with parallel or contrasting memories and imaginings of my own. Poets, philosophers, mythic figures, musicians, or novelists may enter my replies. Psychological sidelights will be many. The possibilities revealed by the genre of lyrical response appear unlimited. There's no better con-verse-ation partner than Shakespeare, who gave me a deep love for his favorite lyric form. Entering into it, I assumed a stranger-self, and it made a stranger me.
