I’ve got no business on the moon. Looking for me once, somebody said, a famous poet, find me here, find me there, something about dirt and grass. I can get behind that. Who was it who said time waits for no man? Or time heals the wounds? Or, time is on my side, yes, itContinue reading “#320: What Was the Question? That Is the Question”
Category Archives: Poetry
#319: How to Write a Poem Every Day
Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends called National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo for short. Here is my first of 30 attempts, my seventh year in a row. The number 319 in my title, FYI, represents the number of poems I have published on the mighty blog, 180 of which wereContinue reading “#319: How to Write a Poem Every Day”
Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Time On Our Side?
Synchronicity, as Jung described it, is a meaningful coincidence, an “acausal connecting principal.” Things happen back to back that seem to be meaningfully related; even though the first thing could not be said to have caused the second thing, we still feel the buzz or the chill of revelation, usually in a thrilling and positiveContinue reading “Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Time On Our Side?”
#318: Ode to Boredom and Non-Snow
It’s 5:30 in the evening, my son is playing video games and my wife is napping and I’ve poured myself a brandy after hemming and hawing almost all day long about what to do with myself. I did four productive things: I picked up a ball of cotton stuffing from an eviscerated dog toy; earlier,Continue reading “#318: Ode to Boredom and Non-Snow”
#317: On Not Being Able to Remember a Student’s Name
She sat right in front of me, in the first row, as it were, and I called her by name, the wrong name. She looked at me. She said, “Who?” And I thought, and maybe I said out loud, “Oh my god.” And even while I knew it was the wrong name, for the lifeContinue reading “#317: On Not Being Able to Remember a Student’s Name”
Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Michael Reads Rumi
Here we go. Another shot at the video blog. This little thing has little to offer in the way of “diary” and nothing to do with an English teacher’s penultimate year, but I found this Rumi poem that I just had to read. Took a few takes at this, the first time through, wrestling withContinue reading “Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Michael Reads Rumi”
#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)
Some people associate a rainbow of colors with various parts of their bodies and they ascribe certain powers or characteristics of their psycho-emotional life to these various colors or energies; Some people think you can concentrate on a color, say, orange, and a body place, say, your privates, and that somehow your relationships will beContinue reading “#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)”
#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died
I’m not going anywhere, but (having lost now both mom and dad) I notice thoughts about mortality enter the noggin with more frequency these days. I’m reading, or rather, listening to Life Reimagined, where Barbara Bradley Hagerty argues essentially that there is really no such thing as a mid-life crisis for most mid-lifers. Much of thatContinue reading “#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died”
#314: To Whom It May Concern
To Whom It May Concern Wherever You Are City, State, Zip Code Hello to Whom, I think this may concern you. I’ve been thinking about you, lately more than usual, I guess, ever since the weather turned. There’s been a disturbance. It’s been too long. That thing people say on postcards: I wish you wereContinue reading “#314: To Whom It May Concern”
#313: The World Is Too Much All Up in Here
(my advance apologies to anyone serious about this stuff, and to Wordsworth) My world card tells me that I’ve got time in my pinky, a king on my ring, twenty one flip-off capacity, death in my forefinger, and a sun up my thumb. But I’ve got the whole world, as the song says, in myContinue reading “#313: The World Is Too Much All Up in Here”
michael jarmer 