NaPoWriMo

Seems like, for a blog that claims to produce a haiku a day (at least in theory), national poetry writing month (NaPoWriMo) would be no problem.

Seems like.

Except that shit's just been kind of all over the place lately. March went out like a fire-breathing, kickboxing, face-eating lion. A beautiful boy went away forever. I worked two jobs, was in a play, practiced with my mystery band, and had a bunch of doctor's appointments for chronic pain (yeah, that's still happening).

April and poetry always make me think of T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland." Looking at it now, I think that he is calling April cruel because it is so full of renewal and reawakening and hope, and yet all this life springs from death: "breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire."

I don't know. I'm so tired.

Haiku for Cruel April

So many undone.
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
Broken images.