NAPOWRIMO #30: UNTITLED (STRIPPED)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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your unclothed bones lie on the river bottom
stripped of even the flesh that gave you form
we name you dead while She considers you free

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Three lines from a poem in progress to wrap up NaPoWriMo 2016.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #29: UNTITLED (BLACK PSALM)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Your dark tongue speaks
and the empires of sea, sky, and land
collapse.

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A few lines from another new "Black Psalm."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #28: UNTITLED (BLACK PSALM)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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You forged a crown that favored yourself.

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A single line from a new "Black Psalm," still in the infant stages.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #27: FOUR HORSES

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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For me
it is four horses
forever bursting forth
from the fiery timbers of the stable

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Four lines of new poem "Four Horses," an alliterative and ekphrastic poem inspired by The Burning Stable, an oil painting by Adolf Schreyer.

There are many more than four horses attempting to flee the barn, and, in fact, five feature prominently in the foreground, but then more than four doesn't set me up as well for the horses of the Apocalypse.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #26: CAMPANULA

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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there is a
ringing of the bells
at the river of the dead

layers of lacquer capsulate
calyx and corolla of the campanula

and all is sandwiched between two slices of transparent glass

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The opening lines of new poem "Campanula." (Six lines instead of three or less.)

Walking along the riverbanks of Eliot's The Waste Land, Sappho's poetry fragment #95, Shakespeare's sonnet #12, and the New Jerusalem of the Revelation.

Dreaming of pressed flowers, pressed bodies, pressed time. Pressed and preserved.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

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Side view of Campanula, 2015
from the Botanicals series, 2013-2015, by Joey Kirkpatrick and Joey C. Mace.
Flower, composite, glass, and steel.

NAPOWRIMO #25: UNTITLED (STOCK)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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slim slipcase of a fish
gives way to brittle bones—
how then shall we swim?

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Three lines from a poem in progress.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #24: IMPLOSION

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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breathing deeper and drawing in

tearing :: torn :: temple tumbling
tabernacle :: blue purple crimson :: blood

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Three lines from poem-in-progress "Implosions." I was tempted to break my rules again, since there were no sets of three lines that fully work together as an excerpt for me. But I had a couple of places where five lines would have played nicely. In the end, I decided to stick to three lines that I felt were fairly representative.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #23: UNTITLED (ROOMS)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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we slept in different rooms of the house, individually, scattered
hoping we could stave off death if it couldn’t find us huddled together

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Two lines from a poem in progress.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #22: VIRTUAL

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Third graders
make plans to meet
after school in a virtual
world of digital blocks

I'll see you soon
At the same place
Second row on the left
Second house on the end

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Breaking my own rules and including a few lines of new poem "Virtual."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table. 

NAPOWRIMO #21: UNTITLED (PHIL)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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he was a salty old sailor and he tried to swear me off shaving as long as possible—don’t fucking shave until you have to, it’s a pain in the ass, you’ll have your whole life to shave

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A long line from a poem in progress.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #20: THE OTHER DAYS of CREATION

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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we conjured forth a slurry of plastic soup

ephemeral in use, eternal in fortitude

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Two non-consecutive lines from poem-in-progress "The Other Days of Creation."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #19: MONKEY HANDS

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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these are not small hands, these are not monkey hands
these are hands that are swift and sure
that will build walls ever so broad and bold

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Three lines from poem-in-progress "Monkey Hands."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #16: ISLAND SONG

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Orphan begets orphan, isolato seeks isolato—
as the surface of the sea seeks to reflect
the stars of the night sky—a constellationary kiss

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The opening lines of poem-in-progress "Island Song."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #15: MOTHER ii

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Young motherhood yields, slow and defiant
To the unknown, heading toward all that is
Senescent, quivering, lost, and forlorn

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Three lines from new poem "Mother ii."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #14: TWO MORE MELVILLES

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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I will man-crush on Melville until it makes them utterly uncomfortable
until I am counterpaned in shame and glory.
Get a room they’ll say and I will and I’ll crawl into bed with him.

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The opening lines of poem-in-progress "Two More Melvilles."

Thank you to Dave for inspiration of the third line. Thank you to Herman Melville and his letters to Nathaniel Hawthorne for encouraging me to revisit one of my favorite chapters of Moby-Dick: "The Counterpane."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #13: ORRERY of ERRORS

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Azimuth. She sweeps her arm as she spins. Her finger draws a blue arc in the dusk. Sophie pulls her finger back to center. She extends her arm again. She spins and draws arc upon arc and great circles.

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A long-line strophe from new poem-in-progress "Orrery of Errors."

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #12: DEATH RITUAL

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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write the names of the dead
on the scraps, one name for each square

place the confetti into a hat

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Three lines from new poem "Death Ritual."
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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #11: ELEGY

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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the tulips long for their one-time gardeners
cultivated rows scatterplotted in the first nuclear season
scarce in the second and third

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Three lines from "Elegy," a poem in progress and companion piece to yesterday's poem.
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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #10: UNTITLED (DREAM FLOWERS)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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In the dream there are no people
only fields of flowers illuminated by sunshine
shadow puppet shows projected upon diaphanous petal screens.

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Three lines from a poem in progress inspired from a visit to the tulip fields of the Skagit Valley.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.

NAPOWRIMO #9: UNTITLED (BILL STEVENSON)

For 2016's National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), Troy's Work Table is writing thirty poems in thirty days, but only publishing three lines (or less) from each rough draft poem here at TWT.

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Highball in hand / Bill Stevenson (ex-Black Flag, ex-Descendents)/ sits down before his drum kit / and disappears //
      for exactly 31.45 seconds //
and then reappears / before his drum kit / something even Erwin Schrodinger (1933 Nobel Prize for Physics) / could never have predicted.

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Three lines from a poem in progress.

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Copyright © 2016 by Troy's Work Table.