The National Poetry Month Project
This is the third year that The Rumpus has celebrated National Poetry Month by running a new, previously-unpublished poem every day for the month. Here’s a link to last year’s…
Poems
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National Poetry Month, Day 32: “Sacrament” by Tracy K Smith
Our National Poetry Month project comes to an end two days after the end of the month, but we close with a special treat–a poem from the next book selection…
National Poetry Month, Day 31: “Single Lane Bridge” by Johnathon Williams
Here at The Rumpus, we think it’s a little silly that National Poetry Month only has 30 days, so we extend the celebration for just a little bit longer. Welcome…
National Poetry Month, Day 30: “Out of Office Reply: Why Do You Seek the Living Among the Dead” by Joseph Harrington
Joseph Harrington’s Things Come On was the Rumpus Poetry Book Club selection for March. You can read the Rumpus Poetry Book Club’s chat with him here and Camille Dungy’s essay…
National Poetry Month, Day 29: “I’m a Poet and I Don’t Know It” by Ariana Reines
I’m a Poet and I Don’t Know It I am so broke Maybe I am a poet I wonder.
National Poetry Month, Day 28: “Casket Sharp” by Saeed Jones
Casket Sharp Your soft cough becomes prognosis. Soon, cigarette smoke is the inkblot test of the lung.
National Poetry Month, Day 27: “The Accused Terrorist’s Wife” by Shara Lessley
The Accused Terrorist’s Wife The house foreclosed, she’s gone to his father’s home, carting her things, a pair of his shoes, their only daughter, sons. Water springs
National Poetry Month, Day 26: “In the Rafters at Birdie’s Roadhouse” by Alison Pelegrin
In the Rafters at Birdie’s Roadhouse 504 forever. Hillbilly princess. FDNY. For a good time a hard man is good to find. Got nookie? Life is too short for bad…
National Poetry Month, Day 25: “Squirrel” by Paul Lisicky
Squirrel The squirrel is in her little kitchen out by the tennis courts. The ceiling is too low for her, but that’s precisely the point. She wouldn’t want it any…
National Poetry Month, Day 24: “Letter to the Right” by Emma Trelles
I hope you never read my poems. / I do not care for the sweet wine you serve / warm from the pantry, or the email you sent / about a savior at the supermarket.
National Poetry Month, Day 23: “Familiar” by Dean Rader
Familiar It was because my snot was frozen, it was because you spit out little chunks of H & H when I made that crack about the guy