Yep — that’s right. Three of my poems have been published in the Winter 2014 edition of Open Palm Print, a small literary print journal based in mid-Michigan. It’s a publication put together with obvious love and care and you can order a copy online so you don’t have to live in the Mitten to treat your eyes to the wonderful work it contains. It probably helps, though.

The three poems in question — Riding in Cars with Werewolves, Not All Hamsters Die in Unusual Circumstances, and Press Conference for a Missing Son — were all written within days of each other during last year’s National Poetry Writing Month. Or NaPoWriMo for short. Or NaPo for even shorter. NaPo is a bit of a misnomer as it is an International event where poets from around the globe commit to writing a new poem every day throughout the month of April. 2013 was my first attempt at NaPo and while I didn’t manage to hit the target of thirty, I managed fifteen new poems and I count that as something of a success. As a result, my list of Titles I’d Really Like to Use at Some Point took a serious hit.

The thing about NaPo is that it forces you to find inspiration from sources one would probably overlook and it really means that anything remotely approaching a kernel of an idea has to be popped and bathed in sweet, sweet buttery drizzle. It’s amazing what comes out at the end of this process. Of course, not all of the fifteen make the grade but I’m happy with enough of them to convince me this was a worthwhile endeavor and this year, twelve days in, I have eleven poems down.

Press Conference is without a doubt the most solemn of the trio and was inspired by such an event I saw on the local news, the finer points of which I’ve long forgotten. What I do remember about that real-life conference was the strange things the mother said about her missing son. There was nothing particularly controversial, but there were some odd details mentioned, things that probably meant quite a bit to the poor woman. Either way, it highlighted to me the various ways we deal with stress and some of the words that leap from brain to mouth without filter under these extraordinary circumstances.

Hamsters is far more light-hearted. The previous day’s poem — No Long Books — was about the (continued) impending demise of my elderly dog and still in that cheery frame of mind, I set about writing something of a eulogy to a beloved family pet. Because they seem to frequently pass on as a result of various household accidents, I imagined that such an impassioned speech about lowly Brer Hamster may be quite amusing, even more so if the hamster in question’s passing was unusually devoid of drama. It just died. I toyed with, and ultimately dismissed, the idea of having a goldfish being the focus but ended up using it as a punctuation point to a poem later in the month. For your information, that goldfish also died. Baked in a plastic bag. Lovely.

The last poem — Werewolves — is a spin on the whole Twilight nonsense and tells the tale of a father coming to terms with the fact that his teenage daughter is dating a supernatural hairy beast and planning on inviting him over for dinner. This title sat on my list for more than a year and is basically a rip-off of the 2001 Drew Barrymore movie, Riding in Cars with Boys. I’m particularly happy with the outcome of this one and there are some individual lines I’m rather surprised that I managed to write: the vampirish “those pale high school boys/ who led their Xbox Lives/ buried in windowless basements/ shrinking from daylight/ to feed a 64-bit bloodlust” and the dual meaning that’s found in “They’d understand each other’s cycles” probably being my picks of the bunch.

So there you have it. Three poems. An embarrassment of riches.

You can order a copy of Open Palm Print at four bucks a pop and check out a preview of an edition by heading over to