Sherry Chandler

So, National Poetry Month begins today. The confluence of April Fool’s Day, Palm Sunday, and the beginning of National Poetry Month seems to have a significance beyond that which my poor intellect can comprehend. Something about the wise and holy fool, perhaps. Anyway, I have tried to make my posts appropriate to the day.

In the past, I have “celebrated” this occasion by bringing you a poet a day. But that’s a lot of work, very constricting, and I’m not sure it serves poets all that well. Anyway, I’m in a bah-humbug mood, so I’m not going to commit myself to it this year. Not every day anyway.

To quote Rachel Dacus: most of us find the festivities and publicity [of National Poetry Month] to be on a par with National Beetroot Day.

If you’d like to have a poem a day, I can offer you several resources. You can sign up for:

• The Academy of American Poets‘ — they started it — poem-a-day.
• The Writer’s Almanac newsletter, or, if you’re more digitally inclined, the podcast.
• Knopf will send you a poem a day from its poetry series, complete with audio clips and printable broadsides in PDF format. To subscribe send a blank email to sub_knopfpoetry@info.randomhouse.com.
• Poetry Daily has a nice feature. They’ll send you their “Poets’ Picks” e-mail : we’ve asked 20 past Poetry Daily poets to contribute to our celebration by selecting poems to be delivered to you by e-mail each weekday in April - their favorites from among The Greats – along with their commentary.
• Visit Windows Toward the World for Helen Losse’s poem-a day selection.
• Or, you can keep an eye on my “This Day in History” feature in the sidebar and click through to poets I’ve featured in 2005 and 2006.

If you want a more hands-on approach, you can participate in NaPoWriMo. I can’t really find a central organizing location for this one, unless it is Poetry Free-for-All. I don’t plan to be doing this one, either.

For a look at the down side of National Poetry Month, try Charles Bernstein’s Against National Poetry Month:

As part of the spring ritual of National Poetry Month, poets are symbolically dragged into the public square in order to be humiliated with the claim that their product has not achieved sufficient market penetration and must be revived by the Artificial Resuscitation Foundation (ARF) lest the art form collapse from its own incompetence, irrelevance, and as a result of the general disinterest among the broad masses of the American People.

The motto of ARF’s National Poetry Month is: “Poetry’s not so bad, really.”

Addendum: In celebration of National Poetry Month (sort of), Billy the Blogging Poet is taking nominations for Poet Laureate of the Blogosphere. Past choices have been Jill Dybka and Ron Silliman.

Don’t go to church on Sunday
Don’t get on my knees to pray
Don’t memorize the books of the Bible
I got my own special way
But I know Jesus loves me
Maybe just a little bit more

I fall on my knees every Sunday
At Zerelda Lee’s candy store

Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied…

— Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan, from Mule Variations

The Hunting of the Snark
An Agony in Eight Fits

Fit the First
THE LANDING

“Just the place for a Snark!” the Bellman cried,
         As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
         By a finger entwined in his hair.

“Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
         That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
         What I tell you three times is true.”

The crew was complete: it included a Boots—
         A maker of Bonnets and Hoods—
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—
         And a Broker, to value their goods.

A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,
         Might perhaps have won more than his share—
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
         Had the whole of their cash in his care.

There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
         Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
         Though none of the sailors knew how.

…

The last of the crew needs especial remark,
         Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one idea—but, that one being “Snark,”
         The good Bellman engaged him at once.

He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
         When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
         And was almost too frightened to speak:

But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
         There was only one Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one he had of his own,
         Whose death would be deeply deplored.

The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
         Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
         Could atone for that dismal surprise!

It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
         Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
         With the plans he had made for the trip:

Navigation was always a difficult art,
         Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
          Undertaking another as well.

The Beaver’s best course was, no doubt, to procure
         A second-hand dagger-proof coat—
So the Baker advised it—and next, to insure
         Its life in some Office of note:

This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire
         (On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire,
         And one Against Damage From Hail.

Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
         Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
         And appeared unaccountably shy.

—Lewis Carroll, read the rest of the poem at Project Gutenberg