National Poetry Month: Dream Poems

I've been terrified of April first coming around this year. If the ghost town that is my blog is any indication of my 2015 writing habits, you'll see I've been a non-writing tumbleweed. We moved back to Brooklyn for the Spring Semester on January 1st and I started teaching three days later in the NYU January intensive program. Then, the semester started in earnest and I began teaching two workshops at NYU and a graduate seminar at Columbia. (In addition to my awesome low-res MFA students from Queens University of Charlotte and my online class for the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center.) It's been amazing. I have been loving my classes so much that it's ridiculous, but also, in my need to throw myself into things completely, I lost my own writing. I have no idea how my fellow teacher friends have kept it up so much throughout the years. In fact, I found it much easier to write with a full time office job, than a teaching job. But the teaching, of course, is a way of thinking about writing and a way of keeping yourself engaged in poetry, even when your pen is not even hovering near the paper. This is starting to sound like an excuse. Perhaps this tumbleweed just needs to pin herself to a corner with the wind and write.

For almost ten years now, I've been participating in National Write More Poetry Month (NaPoWriMo) founded by Maureen Thorson. This is the painful and useful process of writing a DRAFT of a poem a day. Note a say DRAFT. Note I say it LARGELY with LARGE type. These are exercises in making the brain think poetry, daily, for thirty days. Last night, before I went to bed I thought what if I write dream poems? I don't know if I'll stick with it, or if I'll remember every dream, but I thought it might be an interesting way to get back into writing and reconnect with my own wired-tight brain.

So, that's what the project will be: 30 dream poems in 30 days. These will be based on REAL DREAMS. This, from the tumbleweed who has only written one poem this year so far. Here we go; wish me luck. And good luck to you if you're doing it as well. May the writing wind be with you.

xxoo,
Tumbleweed (and Hi, Mom!)