Poetry Month: April 30

In which I thank anyone who read through the month with me. As I said at the beginning, this is a month of rough drafts, ready for re-working and polishing, and I hope you may see some of these (because some are bound to hit the trash pile ("Even Picasso had a wastebasket," as one of my friends once said about my sad attempts at drawing...) cleaned up and redone in upcoming months. But--for now--the pressure (self-applied) is off and I promise a blog-rest, at least a small one.

Poetry Month: April 30

I have spent one month in poetry’s grasp:

reading, writing, seeing, hearing,

learning (above all, learning)

how to find the music,

how to sing the happy and the sad

in my everyday.

Thirty days, producing twenty-five

(count them, twenty-five) poems:

not always timely, not always pretty,

but faithful, dogged, reliably

written, spoken, sung

to the melody of living.