#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”

#345: According to This Map

I have lived for a long time now in the country of Autumn, ruminating in the mountains near the capital city of Change, trying to see my way back into Summer. I know I’m going to hike my way through Somewhere on my way over the Plains of Solitude, and I may have to takeContinue reading “#345: According to This Map”

#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”

A Single Dispatch After the AWP Conference

Oh my god, after three days of the kind of intensity that only a conference of thousands of creative writers under one roof could generate, I am spent. And yet, at 4:30 on Saturday, as I walk away from the Oregon Convention Center at the end of my last session at the Association for WritersContinue reading “A Single Dispatch After the AWP Conference”

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?”

#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”

#287: The Resident 12 Year Old Writes a Bunch of Easter Egg Notes for His Dad

(a found poem, with minor edits) Out of all the people I could think to be my dad, you fall into that category easily. Thank you for making me grilled cheese sandwiches so I don’t die. All around people love you (the person in front of you, your lodge buddies, your workspace friends, etc.); youContinue reading “#287: The Resident 12 Year Old Writes a Bunch of Easter Egg Notes for His Dad”

Gearing Up for NaPoWriMo 2018

In six days I will embark once again (for the fifth year in a row!) on the endeavor to write a poem a day each day for the entire month of April. Won’t you join me? I will post every single one of these things, the good, the bad, and the ugly, right here upContinue reading “Gearing Up for NaPoWriMo 2018”

#285: A Poem Against Nothing

During meditation practice today I wrote some words and phrases on two notecards in response to the following three meditative prompts: Nothing, Form, and Intention. As a writer, I live in the world of specificity, concrete detail, or in ideas expressed explicitly and with clarity. Sometimes I struggle with some of the more esoteric aspectsContinue reading “#285: A Poem Against Nothing”