I always enjoy National Poetry Month (and its sibling, National Poetry Writing Month — NaPoWriMo) in April each year. I try to acquire new poetry books, read more classics, host poetry workshops and teach contemporary poets in my classes at SHU, and write poetry more often than I usually do. In the past, I’ve treated NaPoWriMo as a kind of obsessive challenge; this year, I’m just taking it easy and sharing my poems old and new alike on various platforms when the mood strikes me.
In this blog post, I’ll keep track of poetic things I’ve shared or published in April 2021, updating it as the month progresses, and possibly tossing a few new pieces into the mix.
I’ve returned to The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly (who annually celebrates National Poetry Month with daily features and donates profits to poets.org throughout the month). This time around The 52 is calling April the “Cruelest Poetry Month” (given the pandemic, I agree!) and they featured my new poem, “The Thief Came In” (and also posted my reading of it in audio). You can return every day to Crime Poetry Weekly and read something fresh and insightful.
Speaking of audio, I discovered Twitter Voice on my phone app, and decided to play with it by posting random recitations of my horror poetry on twitter all month. You can track these and listen to all of them as they go live here.
Immunization against the Covid-19 virus is spiking and social interactions after the year-long solitude of pandemic life are rising as well. This is leading to a lot of anxiety mingled with hope everywhere. I’m reminded this month that poetry can offer a special kind of solace… but it need not always be so dire and serious…
A man was injected with Pfizer —
then his blood shot out like a geyser.
“Irony!” was his cry,
“Covid-free, yet I die!
I just wish it had been tranquilizer!”
— Limerick posted to @MikeArnzen twitter stream, 4/9/2021
And of course, there’s always The Fridge of the Damned magnetic word kit — a casual form of creative instigation that never dies. Here’s a new fridge poem I posted to instagram this month, and I’m sure there will be more.
Beating Her Blanket
I napped
on the picnic blanket
and awoke to the tickle
of tiny black ants
some wet-headed with wings that can’t fly --
and some surly red ones, too
jittering among the throng
like kernels in a peppercorn grinder --
it was an orgy of tiny insects
seeking the sugar from my
half-empty soda can
and nuggets of fallen crumb cake
and the smears of grape jelly
I’d accidentally gotten on the plaid fabric
but after I’d leapt away
all I could do was stare in horror
at the writhing picnic blanket
alive with so many horrible insects
and think:
this must be
what her coffin pillow
looks like
before I beat the blanket
against her gravestone
spreading their bodies
dead and alive
in the cemetery air
amid plumes of her old dust
-- new horror poem recited aloud on
@MikeArnzen twitter stream, 4/26/2021
Finally, I’ve rebooted The Goreletter this month, so please sign up (even if you used to subscribe, you’ll need to do it again on the new server or in the form below). If you liked this blog entry, The Goreletter is the best way to remember to come back for more. The shiny new issue released on 4/19/21 includes a new Gorelets poem, “Pandemic Masks I Wish I Would Have Seen” along with a new flash “jolt” story!
