I think I know why I’m writing these poems– I’ve two a day for a full thirty days.If for only one month in the whole yearI’ve found a discipline that keeps me trueto the kind of thing I most want to do.No one’s waiting, holding their breath for me, there would be no consequence forContinue reading “#532: On Writing 60 Poems in 30 Days”
Monthly Archives: April 2024
#531: Samson Gets A Haircut
It’s just time. When it gets long like thisit becomes unmanageable,unruly, always getting in my eyes and in my mouth when I’m making love or clubbingsomeone to death. Annoying. And I’m told I look youngerwhen my hair is short. SoI’m just gonna go for it. Not a buzz cut, by any means, but something close,Continue reading “#531: Samson Gets A Haircut”
#530: Premature Elegy for the Cardigan
I used to wear them. I had a math teacher colleaguewho wore them all the timeeven after everyone stopped.For all I know, in his retirementhe’s still wearing them,but I never see him anymore,so I can’t be sure. Mr. Rogers wore them. Mr. Rogers wore them so wellthat the cardigan sweater almost became synonymouswith Mr. Rogers–ifContinue reading “#530: Premature Elegy for the Cardigan”
#529: The Impossible Pot (again for Terri Ford)
It seemed at first impractical, and then inflatable, then improbable, now impossible, this ain’t no blow-up pot, but a real one. Or is it? It does not look plastic or rubberand there’s no nipple to put air into or suck air out of. It may actually bea real clay pot, and yet, look carefully. TheContinue reading “#529: The Impossible Pot (again for Terri Ford)”
#528: The Improbable Pot (for Terri Ford)
In the picture, the man appears to be carrying a large clay pot on his shoulder, a pot painted to look like a gigantic boombox, like the ones in the80’s, so that while he carries it, helooks like he might also be rocking out,the speakers right up to his ears for thatoptimal stereo sound. ItContinue reading “#528: The Improbable Pot (for Terri Ford)”
#527: An American Sonnet after Simon’s American Tune
We come on the ship they call The MayflowerWe come on the ship that sailed the moonWe come in the age’s most uncertain hoursAnd sing an American tune Paul simon Something must be wrong with us, it seems. Half of us appear to have lost our minds.I attempt to write a poem that doesn’t trytoContinue reading “#527: An American Sonnet after Simon’s American Tune”
#526: An American Sonnet
It’s been difficult to ditch the English wayof tapping out syllables. I liberated myselffrom that whole mapping of rhyme schemebut I still gravitate helplessly toward that godforsaken rhyming couplet at the end. Claude McKay adopted the whole shebangand wrote the most significant sonnetsof the twentieth century, as Beyoncé hasschooled us about the true roots ofContinue reading “#526: An American Sonnet”
#525: On the Impending TikTok Ban
The following is just an essay disguised as a poem. I sometimes have the suspicion that most of my poems are just essays in disguise. I’m just writing sentences and then breaking them into lines. It looks like a duck, but it doesn’t walk or quack like a duck. It doesn’t smell like a duck.Continue reading “#525: On the Impending TikTok Ban”
#524: Naming a Dog
I’ve always thought that a good name for a dogwould be the noises your modem used to makewhen connecting to the internet, that kindof R2D2 series of seven beepsfollowed by white noise: Beedoobeepbeepboodeeboo:Kkkkhhhhaaaaaaaaahhhhh. It would be funrunning around the housecalling for the dog, or in the park, introducingthe dog to other dogswith dog names suchContinue reading “#524: Naming a Dog”
#523: The leaves came into the oak trees today…
The leaves came into the oak trees todayand I almost missed it. I looked up andin a moment they sprouted into fullbloom as if on cue. This was no time lapsetrick of technology, no, just my eyesdeciding that they should turn up the gazeskyward to the tops of these gloriousbeings. And, Christ, I almost missedContinue reading “#523: The leaves came into the oak trees today…”
michael jarmer 