April Is National Poetry Month. What We've Got So Far: A List of Crazy Art Shows, Surprising April News, and the Little Crocus That Could

  

       It's April! National Poetry Writing Month invites poets (a big-tent concept) to write a new poem each day. Here's what I've come up with so far, after getting a late start. 
          My poem for April 3 follows from a prompt to write a "list poem" consisting entirely of invented names for new bands -- or, perhaps, romance novels, TV sitcoms, etc. Taking off from that concept I chose titles for new art installations.

4. 3 Brand New Art Installations: Accompanied By Lavish Illustrations 

(and chanted to the melody of "Durga Ma" by Edo&Jo)

The Garden of the New Broken Future

O Zen, O Now Und Zen

Green Hells Where the Hardhat Ants Raise Cities to the Sky

The Garden of Fig Trees and Future Stress
Tiny Worlds Descending From Stories of Gods Clashing

Airplane Views of Hidden Continents Roiled by Glacial Melting

Octopussy Gardeners: Eight Little Garden-Gloved Hands Make    

      Light Work of Spring Planting

Beneath the Undiscovered Seas New Reefs Are Forming

Inorganic Plastics and The Chain Migrations of the Sins of the   Peculiarly Corrupt

Cleansing Hate: Destroy the Photos and Plastic Figurines of Those Whom You Truly Detest

Courtiers of the New Millennium, Who Wait with Trembling Knees, Bad Teeth, Phony Resumes, and Ignorant Diplomas

Trapped Doors of the Anthropocene: Reptilian Teeth, Plastic Scales, Many-Legged Cretins

The Bonsai of Recollected Vanities Hung by the Neck From Tiny Trees

 ... Coming to you at a nearby museum or gallery.

4/1/18: At Long Last April

What a heavy antidote

April Fool's and Pesach, Easter on its way

I receive the doctor's note:

I have Barrett's Esophagus today

I don't believe I know the man

I really cannot say

If he has lost a body part

We're all careless in our way

I can't imagine a reason why

I'd stoop to scam used organs

And if I were to finger flesh

God knows I'm no esopha-guy

Admiring a heart or lung

Another stomach could be fun

A kidney for the one I lost

I'd carefully consider cost

I offered up a bladder galled

And woke to find a world appalled

My body gets up to such tricks

I'm an open book -- with no appendix

April, I'm not fooling here

My body's growing hollow

But when I'm charged with organ theft

It's more than I can swallow.

 







4.2.18  I See You, Croci, You See Me

i.

I see you peeping up there

from a shelter of old leaves

You really bring some color when and where

we need it most

You really are a hero,

a guest who blossoms into host

the little guy who lives to try  

and when they throw the garbage lid

upon your tiny yellow id

you flatten out like Hamlet did

and your rating sinks to zero

You're an emblem of our time

A flag to welcome spring

In a day or two you reach your prime

And when your glory turns to dust

It really is a crime.

ii.

I see you peering down at me

You boot-steps almost nearing me

I wish you would be fearing me

But I just don't have the time

You think I'm just a show-off

a sunny flash for your delight

But I have my own agenda

And I close up every night

There's a plan for my expansion

Seed money in the bank

And if some day your garden fills

with a host of golden daffodils

You won't have me to thank

But I lead the way for those to come,

light the pathway to the sun

So April boots must watch their step

For though the season seems to creep

It's we who make it run.

[for more about National Poetry Writing Month see http://www.napowrimo.net/2018/04/    ]