So I resolved in the new year to trya meditation practice once againafter a two-year mindfulness dry spell.Not entirely mindlessness, but close. For whatever reason, I could not sitand my cushion languished without me.But during that whole episode, I knewsomething was wanting, something was amiss.It’s not enough to write a ten-syllable line; no amount ofContinue reading “#478: So I resolved in the new year to try . . .”
Tag Archives: poem a day
#477 Surrealism is Dead: A Prose Poem
Surrealism is Dead It died right alongside Irony in the second and third decades of the 21st century. We tried to revive it. We administered the CPR. We kept the airway free. We turned it on its side so it wouldn’t choke on its own vomit. Finally, it gave up the ghost. Now, we lookContinue reading “#477 Surrealism is Dead: A Prose Poem”
#475: The Platonic Love Poem
The optional prompt today from the glorious NaPoWriMo website suggested a platonic love poem. It took me all of about three seconds to choose a subject. Adam I don’t remember a momentwhen it felt like I didn’t know you. On some great day in the 90swe met for the first timeand it was one ofContinue reading “#475: The Platonic Love Poem”
#473: The First Novel I Ever Read
Welcome to the very first day of National Poetry Writing Month, 2024, the goal of which is to write a poem every day for 30 days. I have nearly lost count at this point of the number of consecutive years I have participated in this ritual. I venture to say twelve. For twelve years inContinue reading “#473: The First Novel I Ever Read”
NaPoWriMo 2024: More, More, More, He Cried. With A Rebel Yell.
Well, that’s a nutty title–funny only for those familiar with the Billy Idol song, but appropriate for the year in the National Poetry Writing Month Extravaganza because I’m doing it again and I’m hoping to go big. Last year I vowed to write a sonnet every day for 30 days and I was, lo andContinue reading “NaPoWriMo 2024: More, More, More, He Cried. With A Rebel Yell.”
#404: Two Erasure Poems on April 1, 2022
Grotesquely muffled,the dancers, facesflushed with food, packed into a throngof neighbors. My heart gave a jump–a storm door, wooden. She was there in another moment, into the night. No mercy. The horse’s headhanging under the umbrella,water running in the gutter. Pleasant journey! The coachman,the waiter:transparent,shelter at the stationin the shadows. Goodbye.Goodbye.The hospital? Take good care.Goodbye.IContinue reading “#404: Two Erasure Poems on April 1, 2022”
#375: Poem on April 1, 2021
Okay, first of all, happy National Poetry Month! Second of all, I feel just a little bit of shame that I have not posted a poem on this blog site since April 30th of 2020. I have, over the last seven years, been in the habit of celebrating National Poetry Month by writing a singleContinue reading “#375: Poem on April 1, 2021”
#348: On the Last Day of National Poetry Month, the American English Teacher Writes Several Minimalist Poems About Things He Finds in the Staff Lounge
Coffee Made a single cup; fuel needed after waking at 4 in the morning. Vinegar There’s a bottle of balsamic on the table, waiting to be drizzled over someone’s leftovers for lunch. 100 Hits Here’s a copy of Billboard’s Hottest Hot 100 Hits, a gift to the staff lounge from an intern of mine fromContinue reading “#348: On the Last Day of National Poetry Month, the American English Teacher Writes Several Minimalist Poems About Things He Finds in the Staff Lounge”
#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet
The natives are restless, the 9th graders are rowdy, won’t stop talking, interrupt almost every teacher phrase with chatter, and because my intern has the class, I am completely unruffled. It’s the penultimate day of National Poetry Month and this is my penultimate poem in prose in the April of my potentially penultimate school yearContinue reading “#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet”
#311: Warning
Do not fold, spindle, or mutilate anything in this room. This bag is not a toy. This thing right here: do not eat. Watch your step. If symptoms persist, consult your physician. I am out of band-aids. Men below, please don’t throw. Slow children. This hand sanitizer is flammable. Think about that for a minute.Continue reading “#311: Warning”
michael jarmer 