CC '06 Group D is back in full effect. We're on day 24 of a 30-day write (a poem a day for thirty days) and have been encouraging each other every step of the way. I'm not sure who planted the seed (Christina? Dante? Lita?) but we began in the middle of last month and I can't believe we've gotten this far. This is a great exercise because it pushes you to find time for poems, despite whatever else is going on in the world or in your life. I had literally sent out my second manuscript the day before we began and I felt like I was all tapped out. I didn't want to see another poem, much less write one. Of course, we complain (or at least I do) while writing and submitting every poem, but I've been writing steadily and that's not something I am usually able (or willing) to do. The best part is, there are no real constraints. We don't even have a steady stream of comments on each poem--folks chime in when they want to and, most of the time, folks don't say anything at all. This practice has given the whole group time and space to just create freely without consequence or the perpetual fear workshop can create. Though we haven't finished yet, I just wanted to highlight some of the beautiful music we've been making, check out a few of the nice lines I've read from each...
"Tell me about the cruelty of the sea."
"When last troops searched the dead, I laid down
on the nearest corpse and shielded the sun with my bare hands."
"Most days my crotch is cleaner than my hands."
"Arrogance is a genuine virtue."
"I test the dangers of these streets."
"I will lie to him, just as my lover did
about tomorrow's plans."
here is my cosmic no"
wet flesh and time"
"I wish this for you: a handful of ash and a string
of ruined days"
(Reginald) Dwayne Betts:
links men to God.
Not nights sleeping
under another cat’s
dreams, or days knuckling
up with the burden of an hour."
"A bus drove
us towards the country &
"It is a man. He is someone’s son. A heartache.
When he screams, our eyes open again."
"This is not a poem
this is a cry."
"sparkle brighter than full
moon's midnight and northern lights"
"It's round about wine-thirty and I
got tail to shake and sense to make."
"I had loose arms
and dreams once"
"thirsty for samba at twilight and some honeyed song"
"You come as a nightmare
angry and yelling for our mother"
There has been a glorious bounty these past few weeks. I've even found a small symphony in our complaints. Here's a found poem using the disclaimers we all threw around by e-mail every day:
I Am Not Krunk
I'm so amp'd now.
I've been excited that this day was coming.
I love that it was ushered in by the full moon.
I stink because I forgot about the deadline.
Greetings from Paris. Poem attached.
Here is yesterday's late creation.
I was having a very Harryette Mullen kind of day.
In addition to ignoring the muse,
I am also studying for my finance exam.
I am on the intermittent poetry plan,
slogging through the best I can.
I'm getting confused with all of these
messages, comments, poems.
I'm not taking enough risk in my work.
Just wanted to voice my discontent and boredom.
I did what you said and this is what plopped out.
Even though I've fallen off y'all are holding
me up with your brilliance.
It’s getting heated now.
Man, it’s getting hectic.
This is all I got today.
I'm reaching for poems.
An imitation of sorts.
P.S. I know the titles
are getting pretty generic.
Sorry about that. See attached.
A day late and a dollar....
A poem behind. This joint slums too.
Still on the road, still running behind.
This one was really rough on me.
I’m gonna slush through this.
This one is kind of 'iffy'...but I like it.
Whew! I kicked another one out.
Hey, I wonder if this counts as today's poem? :-) Nah, my group is surely not going for that. Anyway, grab some friends and start your own poem-a-day writing project. You'll be dazzled by what you can do.