I think it's extremely unfair that there was major national news in the middle of poetry month. What we want is a nice, quiet period of time interrupted only by the odiousness of taxes in which poetry can shine like a subtle star brightening out of the dun end of sunset. Can appear larger than usual because of the earth's curve. Can unfold what we thought was a fruit and fly away from the tree, free.
And all of us who labor at the Poem-A-Day exercise can feel relaxed and receptive at the start of each day, instead of having been bombarded with more of this lock-and-load culture's dysfunction. It did make my poem about a caterpillar seem ... well, irrelevant. But then I suppose a poem about a caterpillar is supposed not to be too relevant. That's the idea of it.
So if you're doing the daily poem thing, how's it going? We're two-thirds of the way through, and some of my efforts have been pretty thin. But for very many more days than I would have guessed beforehand, surprising things have come through my pen, things I could swear I hadn't been thinking about before I started to write.
But then that's why most of us write, isn't it?
By the way, you do know about The Human Flower Project, don't you?