So many suckers brave souls are attempting NaPoWriMo this year. Can you write a poem a day for a month?

Some of the participants:

Rik of The Rik Files
Cookala of Cheesecloth Moon
Harry of Heraclitean Fire
Liz of Blue Sky Tavern posting at Blue Sky Views
Mike of the Formal Blog and Sonnetarium
Jee Leong of Song of a Reformed Headhunter
Rob of Surroundings
Eloise of Cake or Death?
Scavella of Scavella’s Blogsphere
Hannah of Awake at Dawn on Someone’s Couch
Dick of The Patteran Pages might be giving it a try
Kult of sugar-coated pencils
David of Dummy
Chad of Freak Machine Press
Amanda of A Teeny Tiny Blog
David of The April Project 2006
Shanna of Shanna Compton’s Blog
Suzanne of litwindowpane
Steve of Oh Sweet Death Come For Me
Jessica of LookTouchBlog
Jen of Fringe Matters
Mathias of Yes, Starlings! Yes!
Hedgie of The Jackdaw’s Nest
Ivy of Ivy is Here
SB of Watermark
Erin of Vivid

And then there are those who are going above and beyond, poets with talent and drive beyond mere mortals. These few who are doing two poems a day for the month:

Reen of st*rnosedmole
Shafer of I’ll Show You Mine

Plus many more as I track them down (or they take pity on me and tell me. Hint hint).

I saw myself in a mirror. It’s true. It’s Austin Scarlett’s hair.

I don’t have his makeup, though. I could, but I don’t.

You know a blog is worth reading if a reader comments: “Your shriveled little hearts must be made of tar.”

Yes, I believe they are, but that’s what makes Go Fug Yourself such fun for the mean-spirited among us. We know who we are.

I’m taken with these lines by Julia Cohen:

The endeavor always
ends in anonymous:

bedfellows and cadavers.

I just want to say that out loud, repeatedly.

I did my taxes and now feel better.

If that isn’t a first, it should be.

Bring on NaPo!

But in the meantime, check out Seth Abramson’s Royal Society. I know a few people who are royal pains in the ass. Does that count?

Home finally.

The procedure, whatever in the hell it is, apparently went fine. Of course, it went fine three previous times, so who the hell knows?

Yoinks, I am a crankypants.

I need to read a good poem. Writing a good poem is completely out of the question. NaPo is going to kick me to the curb.

Yep.

Is it too late to sacrifice myself to some really bloody god to get out of this?

Ain’t That a Kick in the Head?

Steve’s wrist. Yeah, what more needs said? More doctor visits. More infection. Possibly more surgery.

Gabriel pointed me to Jessica Murray’s poem, but we don’t agree about Jure Kaštelan’s Parting at Three Candles. I think it’s lovely. He thinks it’s meh, at best.

I fell absolutely in love with Daniel Khalastchi’s Poem: (With It We Bury) in the most recent New Hampshire Review. The audio file depressed me.

Kelli Russell Agodon’s In the 70’s, I Confused Macramé and Macabre is a strange favorite. It’s very artificial, but somehow very meaningful for me. I felt I shouldn’t like it the way I do like it.

This isn’t a specific poem, but Sunspinner links to poems in other journals that they find admirable. I find Sunspinner admirable. It’s all chock full of admiration!

Gabriel pointed me to a poem in 32 Poems Magazine by Jessica Murray: Elegy for Summer.

I think it’s beautiful.

I need to start pimping some of the other great poems I’ve read lately, including ones at Kaleidowhirl, Sunspinner, New Hampshire Review, and Three Candles.

Edited to add: She used “gelid,” though. Is that allowed?