If I'm counting correctly, my January through June sabbatical should total 181 days- and 181 poems- thus, the title of this blog. (I thought it was an original twist on the Billy Collins Poetry 180, but I now realize other people have made that twist, including, perhaps, Billy himself.)
During my sabbatical, I will also be doing some traveling and may not have Internet access all the time. When that happens, I will try to give anyone (if there ends up being anyone) who reads this blog a heads-up that there will be no postings for a while. I will write in my journal, though, and post the dated poems once I can get back to the Internet. (I tend to write short poems anyway. We'll see if this exacerbates that tendency.)
Here's one short invocation before I begin, an old poem of mine that seems appropriate. (It might also help you- if there is a you out there- decide whether you might want to read what I write.) As you can tell from the poem, I'm a cyclist and starting to write feels a lot like starting to ride- a first rush of energy and then the long slog.
Cycling at Sunrise
I ride a poem this morning,
my cadence crisp, my line lean,
as I swoop down the hill
between dawn and the gas station-
drafting my Muse, inviting her to dance
on my pedals when the road rises
and the real climb begins.
Happy New Year. Wish me luck.
