Cruising around the blogs this evening, I found some sites on the NaPoWriMo list that didn’t have any poems at all, some of which were very cool, like this flog, this flog, and this fun gif that I can’t figure out how to attach to anything. It's kinda like signing up for a back stroke contest when you don't swim, but what the heck? NaPoWriMo's easy like Sunday morning.
Today’s prompt: “a homophonic translation” or should I say: “Too dazed prom. Tahoe/Mofo nicked ran slate shun"?
A very observant NaPoWriMoer emailed me today, and noted that many of the poems I’m posting weren’t written on that day that I'm posting them. That's true. I’m picking NaPoWriMo poems that catch my fancy, but not necessarily posting them on the day they were written. Tonight, I have sparse punctuation on the brain.
*
Romola Grey
romola grey plays the glistery xylophone, one foot perched up on a potato mountain. in her arteries are gold rushes, klondike blood and moody oxygen. there is a particular grace to her madness: she used to be a seaweed keeper in carmel, long-finned pilot whale watcher in cork, hoary hair weaver in aix, newspaper delivery boy in columbus—she planted soulful cacophonies of watermelon kids who ice skated around her ankles.
romola grey hits the notes in vernacular solicitude, her fingers in antarctican winds, sloughs off half of the continent of dry skin. she looks for a wolf-boy who will listen to her calls, and her musical outpour of thunderous howls. but there is a nome-alaska body in her gut, corpuscled deep in her legs that trench a frozen pumpkin patch—for she is her own snowy witch with the back of a lion.
Posted here.
*
Mitochondria
subtle organelles
power-generators
of true
nuclear
energy
L’Engle wrote
long ago
in time
a wrinkle:
the difference between
what-is-known
and
what-is-not-yet-known
compared to
what-is-no-longer-known
the greatest danger
in science
is unknowing
and not caring
when knowledge is lost
meanwhile
minute
mitochondria
make
music
and we whistle while we work
Posted here, where the author is writing a poem a day on a scientific term.
*
childINdaHood
One of my fondest memories
is helping my grandfather
build a fence to go around
our back porch.
I was 8
and prolly not much help
But I was intrigued by
the level tool
Posted here.
