It's day 10 of NaPoMo, and I'm writing away but this year, I'm not entirely stoked about my work.
Last year around this time I was breathing poetry. Newly in love, it felt like everything I touched in the supermarket, every conversation I heard on the street, every person I saw in the park could be a new poem. Plus, I had this really amazing project to work on, my black and wtf poems. In 30 days I pumped out some of the best, most surreal stuff I've ever written, and I loved every single line. Poems about goats on slides, elephants trying to stuff themselves into cars, comforting bears, men making Snooki giant pickles, etc. When I re-read these poems, I feel like they could really go somewhere. I'm newly inspired right now to rework and submit them. I like the commentaries they make, they way they talk about our world.
But this year, I'm pretty much just journaling. And, that's OK too. I'm happy to be writing, but the result is that I feel like these poems are just for me, and maybe my little group of friends. At the end of the day, I don't think anyone on a larger scale will want to read me pontificating about the differences between France and the USA, or how much I hated my job back home, or my personal struggles. To be short and sweet, I don't think I'm writing anything that anyone hasn't already written.
Again, this is not a complaint. I've been so busy with school and work and taking up running again and planning voyages around Europe, I didn't even think I'd get past day one of NaPoMo. And I certainly haven't made any time for journaling. So these poems will someday be a nice little thread for me to hold on to my April 2012 days.
Oh, and for the record, I am still crazy in love, but we've been doing the long distance thing, so the physical electricity that lets me tranform everything I touch into a poem is on vacay for now.
Here's some of what I wrote this week:
Day 7 I rehash an old prompt from poetry workshop years ago.
I Sold my Virginity on Ebay
Today, a search for virgin turns
up 58,653 results. I stand
out among the virgin neem
oil, the barely legal videos,
the virgin mother statues,
the CDs from Virgin Records.
For 10,000 bidders, I assure
the eBay buyer protection
and the certificate of authenticity.
Yeah, Ebay has a rule about nudity,
but this bidder wants more than a bare
ass or tits anyway. My photo gallery shows
my parts separately: sharp elbow, jawline,
above upper lip, upper thigh. The winning bidder
is a polite businessmen. We agree, my virginity
will arrive in 5-7 business days. But how can I
package it?
Day 8 I visit the Easter market in Caen
Au marche de Pacques a Caen
I walk through the market to find
some Normand apples. But it's late
Easter afternoon and probably
everyone wants to go hunt
for eggs and play
with whatever the French
play with on Easter. The marche
is wrapping up. I get the apples.
On the way, I pass a bald man
being followed by an enormous
bubble. It pops and I am surprised
the little rainbow inside doesn't slick
his skin. Ah, Caen, qu'est-ce que tu me
satisfait, et bien je ne suis jamais satisfaite.
Day 9 I put together a Facebook found poem. I am only posting a few lines of this one.
Today it's market
research. I check my feed, see that a friend wants
to know why boys these days want the cake
but not the whole thing. I learn he doesn't give
pieces. 40 hours a week for three years, where
did you go? Every one of you was raw, unbridled
evil and greed and ignorance smothered in balloons
and ribbons. Let's hope we don't get blown away
by the wind.
Today, my poem is "At 25 years old I feel my breasts for the first time." And it probably won't go public yet, just so you know in advance.
1 comment:
:-)
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