THE FEMALE BODY IS A THOUSAND YEAR OLD FREAK SHOW OF DRIED OUT MERMAIDS

I'm probably misquoting, but the title is a line from a Lara Glenum poem found in her book, "The Hounds of No." It will gross you out, make you queasy around breakfast foods, and amaze you with some badass weird syntax. This is my first endorsement for National Poetry Month, which begins today.

Poetry month always makes me want to do something crazy with poetry. Moreso than usual, I should say, because crazy poetry ideas are pretty much standard with me. I miss having projects that exhaust me, trying to write things I don't know how to write yet, listening to them develop through drafts. The long poem on the watusi was the last attempt, but I think it's finished (for now) and in any case, I figured it out, kind of. (Funny, I remember bitching about not being able to do what I wanted to do in poems not too long ago, and as soon as I've discovered a new mine of ideas, I want more difficulty. Who's surprised?) Okay, no really, I have been pretty happy with the poems lately. But I always want more growth. Which, I guess, is what it's all about. (And putting your whole self in, taking your whole self out, and shaking it. All about, baby.)