30 Poems in 30 Days

30 Poems in 30 Days
A Project for National Poetry Writing Month

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Day 30 Backwards Poem

Wallace Stevens in a Dream with Snakes

Like any dream in Tennessee
they did not have another place
the jar and quiet snakes.
They took dominion. Everywhere --

so blue, and courting light and air.
The jar was bright against the dirt.
They slept awhile and dreamt of mice,
theses snakes it summoned, curled inside

they writhed and moaned.
We tasted whistling, grizzling air,
then filled it there with hair and clay,
that jar I placed in Tennessee.

* This poem is a backwards reshaping of a poem I wrote on the first day of NaPoWriMo in 2013, in response to a prompt which asked us to begin with the first line of another poem. The original poem can be found here: Firsts.

And so...thus endeth the poetry-finger-painting exercises for 2015, stumbling across the finish line once again.

Day 29 Review

Anxiety and Generalized Idiopathic Weepiness

While the materials here are perhaps,
as the kids say, relatable; sadly they are also
all too common. Serving up A&GIW
with a splash of whiskey or one-too-many
umbrella drinks does not make them
less ordinary. I recommend you subscribe
only if you enjoy insomnia and long, parking lot
sobfests. Better for you to turn off NPR.

Day 28 Poem About Bridges


each day                     some how                      we bridge                      our way

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Day 27 Hay(na)ku

long long
day, no sleep

Day 26 Persona



[eyes        eyes]

                                [eyes   eyes]
        drop                                          drop          
                    ping                                    drop

                                                                                 breath  breath  brrrreeeaaathhh  brrrreeeaaathhh


                                                         sooooffffftttttly                  ssssshhhsssshhsssssssss

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Day 25 Clerihew

James Joyce's Goblin

James Joyce is off to Paris
where artists are so careless.
It's not at all like Dublin,
Joyce's pocket goblin.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Day 24 Parody

I abdicate myself or king myself
and what you presume you shall presume
for every madam belonging to me should belong to you.

I toast and invite your skol
I mean I toast and you tease, disturbing the maids you've hired at last.