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TGAP 3 Week 05 May 01, 2011

TGAP Week 05 Artwork by Cameron Ouellette

You slash verse from the budget,
Until it’s got no place
In the curriculum you claim

Reading a mathematical
Text and rote memorization
Of tainted historical facts are
The cure for all that ails us (which
To you is simply the
ing e-con-
o-me.) While,

The Poet Laureate sits in
A swanky Washington office and
Fumbles with his pen, wondering
“Why the fuck am I here?” Searching
For a job description (an-
y – where) when he knows

Across The Mall ogres
Argue against art.

So, he swooshes the air
With a sword that seems
To have lost its point. Slammed
Into this world, born 

Artists, naked in this story,
(for every yin, a yang,
every tick, a tock,
every flip, a flop,

for every battlefield casualty, a premature birth)

We know, Mr. Conservative,
Why you hate poetry
And wish you could bury
It in some sandy lot next
To back copies of the New
York Times
: the truth makes
An ass of you, the butt
Of each joke in poetry and its mirror
News of words.

And time,
Well, time reveals
Your task, Mr. Laureate –

Take that pen down
From above the hearth
To remind us why 

Each stanza matters.

This is my submission for Week 05 of the Twingeekz Artz Project 3. 

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back. 

Let’s do it again! #tgap2020 join us!

April 10, 2016


Their world is dying

For the fruit we slice up

On Cornflakes and Rice


Krispies. Chupacabras

Wonders between the big

Leaves and trunks and knows.


He should hold crops

For themselves. How

Many acres of rain


Forest disappear

Everyday for McDonald’s?

Homes are sinking

Into the core,

Hot, and molten, and afraid.


My car disappeared

Last night, pushed

Away by a giant

Beast, alone

And unbelieved in


Leaving empty peels

And a few drained corpses

In his wake.


This is Poem #57 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.


This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.


Lady Diction’s Calendar

April 2020