January is National Blood Donor Month. February is Black History Month. March is Sing With Your Child
Month.
I donated blood in January. I read Toni Morrison’s Beloved
in February. I sang with my
children throughout March. Did all
these things as a person who considers himself a citizen of strong national
identity ought to do. Hey, I’m as
dedicated as the next guy in my desires to express national pride.
April is National Poetry Month.
Trumpet interlude blasts through here.
This month, I promise to live and breathe poetry in a way
that no man has before this April.
Every day, I will commit one poem to memory and recite that
poem in my head or aloud throughout the day. At night, I will sleep with that poem under my pillow. In this way, I will live and breathe
poetry. I will allow the poem to
live life through me. For this
month, I plan to make my mind a poetry churn. Just as yogis practice to repeat Gurmukhi or Sanskrit
mantras, I will commit my thoughts to poetry written by contemporary, living
poets.
I am excited about this undertaking. The guys at The Base will envy me.
For one month if the whole nation will be celebrating verse,
to not engage in poetic activity every day of the month
would be perverse.
May, June, and July all have their particular commemorative
designations. For instance, July
is National Hotdog Month. National
Hotdog Month? Well, I’ll have to
sit that one out, unless the hot dogs can be the herbivore variety.
I’m falling asleep tonight with a variation on a Rumi line
dancing through my head.
“Inside you there’s a poet you don’t know about.”
