The assignment today from napowrimo was to try a poem with lots of repetition. I’ve been digging the suggestions. I think I’ve taken up the (optional) assignment every day. That’s been fortuitous. Here’s one about the yard work that follows a wind storm.
Picking Up Sticks
Today I am picking up sticks.
Here’s a stick I picked up.
Here’s another stick.
Look at all of these sticks I must pick up.
Fiddle sticks, drum sticks, chopsticks,
swizzle stick, leg of lamb, pick up, pick up,
pick up more sticks.
Here’s a stick that fell from the tree.
Here’s a stick that fell from the stick
that fell from the tree.
My whole yard is full of sticks
I must pick up, and also the driveway.
So many sticks.
So many fucking sticks.
I will be here all day picking
up sticks. You are free to come
help me pick up sticks if you like.
Don’t be a stick in the mud like
this here stick in the mud.
This whole thing with sticks
may seem kind of like a schtick
but I swear, there are so many sticks.
And I must pick them up. Sticks. Sticks.
And Sticks. Today I am picking up sticks.