Starting Nov. 1, says Northampton poet laureate Leslea Newman, poets are invited to write a poem a day until Nov. 30. And anyone can pledge money on behalf of poets who undertake that daunting task. The proceeds go to a worthy cause: The Family Literacy Project of the Center for New Americans.
This is, in one sense, a beautiful thing. As one of the madding crowd encumbered with an MFA degree in just such word-arranging, I intend to take her up on the offer. It is, in another sense, terrifying (and more on that in this space after I try to survive the 30 days).
Poetry, like anything, can be written quickly. Cranking out 30 small collections of words possessing the characteristics of poems is an attainable goal. Thirty poems that will stand the test of time? That's another matter. Things like writing 30 poems in 30 days therefore run the risk of, as a poet friend said, "diminishing the enterprise."
The poet Richard Howard (who, as a poetry editor, ought to know) reportedly pointed out the problem with prolificacy in less generous terms, saying that having to read 500 haikus per week was "like being nibbled to death by goldfish."
Embarking on this particular project puts me in terror of creating some pretty fearsome goldfish. I am sure many poets possess a similar piscine angst, but it's fondly to be hoped that undertaking the 30-poem project also stands a chance of acquainting (or re-acquainting) all comers, from poetry newbies to the hoary masters of the academy, with what a rarefied thing writing a good poem really is. Having a couple of successful moments of inspiration, of course, quickly proves too meager in such a long-winded enterprise.
Newman's project is, no matter the jitters it might inspire in certain quarters, a laudable thing: poetry as a producer of practical help for those in need. And she has anticipated the difficulties of such sustained inspiration by offering, in her PDF download for participants, a list of 100 writing prompts, ranging from the traditional ("Write a love poem to a person") to more left-field stuff like the Raymond Queneau-esque "Write a poem that does not contain the letter 'e.'"
Newman also says she's heard from people who want to participate from much farther afield than the Pioneer Valley, in part thanks to a Facebook page dedicated to the project. Such projects aren't new—as Newman points out, November has become, for a certain subset of the chronically ambitious, National Novel Writing Month (which pretty much makes writing a few poems seem like a walk in the park). And she's heard from at least one poet who wants to implement the 30 Poems in 30 Days idea in another town.
This all risks creating a few goldfish factories to make poetry editors nationwide blanch in fear. But in a country so often bereft of appreciation for the subtleties of poetry beyond terror-inducing greeting card verse, it's probably worth that risk. Getting acquainted with the pleasures and difficulties of playing with language and creating something new, even spine-tingling, is the flip side of that risk. A healthy appreciation for those who craft poetic wonders worthy of canonization needs to come around some way, and if the poetry-curious wade into this challenge with eyes open, that might just be the happy result.
If you would like to participate (or sponsor a poet), navigate on over to the Northampton Arts Council website, where you'll find a page explaining the genesis of the project and materials to get you started. After November has unspooled, a reading will take place at the Forbes Library (on Dec. 2), offering participants a chance to air the results of their labors.
