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”
Tag Archives: poem
#344: I Drove Over the Mountain to Get Here
I drove over the mountain to get here. I drove over Mount Hood. I drove over the mountain into the desert. Eventually, I ended up close to three other mountains, the ones we call The Sisters. I drove over the mountain to get here. This is the place where I will try to help peopleContinue reading “#344: I Drove Over the Mountain to Get Here”
#330: The Dullards
“Some people you meet are so dull that you always remember their names.” –William Stafford Are you uninteresting or stupid? I love you. You are like the black hole photographed for the first time in human history, or an undiscovered country from whose bourn blah blah no traveler returns blah blah. You fascinate, primarilyContinue reading “#330: The Dullards”
#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”
#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”
#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”
#299: In a Dream, a Hammer Crushed a Teacup
In a dream, a Hammer crushed a Teacup, Seagulls flew overhead, one, wearing a Ballet Slipper, having lost its mate to a Shark. I sit at a Wobbly Table, recently crowned a third time by my Dentist, singing the Rowboat song. My therapist, who specializes in dream interpretation, is sad. He has no idea what it means. InContinue reading “#299: In a Dream, a Hammer Crushed a Teacup”
#292: Two Sides (a Dialogue with Self)
Recently, I was thinking about self talk, or, literally, the act of talking out loud to oneself, and decided finally, even though I suspected it all along, that it is a necessary and healthful behavior. I mean, what’s the signature feature of Shakespeare’s soliloquies? To me, the key feature of a Shakespeare soliloquy, beyond theContinue reading “#292: Two Sides (a Dialogue with Self)”
#290: Coda (Zebra Boat)
Today, the napowrimo website challenges us to write a poem that reacts both to photography and to words in a language not our own. We are to begin with a photograph. Then we are to find a poem in a language we do not know. Ignoring any accompanying English translation, we are to then translateContinue reading “#290: Coda (Zebra Boat)”
#286: When Easter Falls on April Fools Day
The first poem of the month has a provocative title, and suggests, provocatively, that Jesus was joking. He made us think he was dead and then rose again on the third day, the first day of April, to shoot hoops with his friends. Most everyone was totally fished in. You would be. But of course,Continue reading “#286: When Easter Falls on April Fools Day”
michael jarmer 