Back in the saddle/ On the Space Station/ flower girls and rodeo clowns/ whisper their wishes to atrophied stars/ lingering light spectrum/ like blood splatter/ No Matter/ No Más/ Still/ a shot in the dark/ hits all targets/ and everyone goes home with a prize/
Why in the world would I be gearing up, yet once again, for a poem a day in April. NaPoMo or National Poetry Month. I’ve never really hit that 30 poems in 30 day nut. Made more crazy because I feel the need to be more selective in what I’m going to toss up this year. Whatever.