A Sonnet

I've been running an annual poetry challenge over at my blog for the Minnesota Fringe, wherein interested companies can send me a sonnet written to a set of insanely complicated rules (terza rima this year) if they want me to cover their shows. I've been a big believer in not taking advantage of that space to plug my own Fringe show, but I've been critiquing so much of other people's poetry that it seems only sporting to allow them to take a crack at mine. So, without any further ado, a sonnet promoting my own show:

Faded descendant of a noble line,
his life defined by his duality
of Western coarseness, Eastern blood so fine,

he plunges into ancient history
accompanied by others, yet alone,
unique in his genetic alchemy.

In Canada, a Buddhist talks of bones;
In Fiji, tombs conceal a mystery
beneath blue tile, granite, dirt, and stone;

New Zealand harbors filial secrecy,
and China -- here our cranky hero blunders
to battle a grotesque bureaucracy.

Amidst his doubt and toil, still he wonders
if somewhere in his blood -- a dragon thunders.