National Poetry Month was started in 1987 by NHL journeyman defenceman Michel Petit as a way of distracting his Vancouver teammates from another dismal Canuck season dressed like November jack-o-lanterns. Slowly, the fete spread across hockey and around the world. Today NaPoMo is celebrated in 130 countries, and the extent of the celebration varies. Belize gives its citizens, with the exception of red heads, the entire month off. In Kyrgyzstan, each day beings with a recitation of the “Epic of Manas” followed by a feast of pheasant eggs and molasses. In Suriname, the citizenry begins the month with a community reading of “The Wachtendonck Psalms” and then daily sacrifices of experimental poets by replicas of the sword sheath of Bergakker. In Tuscon, Arizona, life continues as per usual. Russians, interestingly, don’t celebrate NaPoMo due to the fact that they are an angry angry people.
In Canada, celebrations and observations are planned from coast to coast, most involving Margaret Atwood. Often NaPoMo is lost in a thick haze of playoff hockey and eating ham with family in celebration of Jesus. This year, with all but two Canadian NHL franchises missing the playoffs, a ham shortage, and my perpetual underemployment, I thought it would be a good opportunity to actively participate in National Poetry Month. I’m going to join in on the 30 in 30 deal, and write and post one new poem a day for all thirty days of April. I will warn you, there is a chance there could be a lot of suck. But, I will promise no poems about prairie wheat or cheating with haikus. Unless it’s a really good haiku. About prairie wheat.
(Update: All of the poems can be found here.)
I know what you’re thinking, that you couldn’t care less. I get that. So, apropos of nothing here’s some Willard Grant Consiracy: