Winter Madness, a cinquain sonnet

Under 
the streetlights, the 
blocks go on forever 
beneath the leaden sky.  In this
city,

streets seem 
somehow longer,
straighter in the winter 
night, lonelier than the steam from 
sewers.

Madness 
belongs to the 
night, to the filling of 
empty lanes with the walls of words.








...I've done a few haiku sonnets, so I figured...why not...

...puttin' the Po in NaPoWriMo...