I'm more than a week into the 30/30 Project, writing a poem a day for the month of January. There have been moments as thrilling as any I've experienced as a writer -- lines forming themselves as if of their own volition, ideas fusing with music. There have been moments of sheer panic as well as hours pass without a thread to follow through the maze of poem drafts. I've taken liberties with Lorca, given a nod to dear friends, bestowed a voice upon a poison mushroom, invented new lives and written my own.
If you've been one of my kind readers, following my daily progress, please consider donating a dollar or two to Tupelo Press so they can continue to promote all their wonderful poets and projects. You can find information on how to donate at the 30/30 page. View it as a trade. Here's a list of what I'll be exchanging for donations.
$1+ -- A letter or postcard
$10 -- A handwritten poem
$20 -- A poem on a prompt of your choosing
$35 -- A limited letter-press print of my poem Cicada by the artist Marie Kinscher (see above)
$100 -- A private reading
Thursday, January 1, 2015
|Artist: Marie Kinscher|
Tupelo Press' 30/30 project means cranking out a poem every day, for public viewing nonetheless. That's daunting. My typical process involves the slow accretion of lines and ideas and drafts over weeks, sometimes months. 30/30 gives me no time to perfect and hone and second guess. It's good and terrifying too. I spent the morning pushing words around the page. Nothing. I tried one poem, then another, then another. The thought came that I might not be up for this.
Then I took a walk and looked at the cracked glaze of ice on Horseshoe Lake like so much candy or stained glass in the sunlight. And I remembered that life doesn't take place inside my head (and what is true of life is often true of writing and vice versa). I walked with dust kicking along Shady Beach Road beneath the bluest sky and the first lines of the day's poem came to me.
These words are not meant to be read in their entirety. Skim them the way this plane skims the cloud layer, jostling sometim...
Tomorrow is August which means more dry heat here in Santa Fe and a start to another round of 30/30, Tupelo Press' poem a day challe...