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Thursday, November 1, 2012

hello holopopomo

So here we are.

Longtime readers may remember that last November, in my own response to not participating in National Novel Writers Month (NaNoWriMo), I created Horribly Local Blogging Month (HoLoBloMo), where I set out to write daily posts.

I’m not doing that this year. Instead, I am embarking on a new idea: Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo). I call it Poor Poetry Month because low expectations are pretty much always a win-win.

Since it’s probable that this Poetry will be Short as well as Poor, perhaps even just an occasional couplet, I could refer to this month as HoLoShoPoPoMo... but that would be o-verkill. 

Today’s poem is about watching the Hurricane Sandy Coverage. This is not meant to make light of the situation. Our hearts break when we see some of these images and think about the people still sitting in the cold dark, or missing, or who have lost everything. We were incredibly lucky that we kept our power and stayed dry. But these words rattled in my brain on Monday night:

observed, 10/29/2012

I watch reporters one by one
Drenched and blown and overrun
And clearly having zero fun
Wishing they’d be told they’re done

The end.

I reiterate: Low expectations are pretty much always a win-win.

Yes indeed. Welcome to me.


  1. Tragedy has a decidedly unique way of fostering creativity. Whether it inspires innovations that save countless lives, or moves a blogmastrix/actress/puppet-ette to write a four-line poem describing what she has observed--every creation in the wake of destruction is a small battle won; each victory moves us forward.

    The Northeast will recover on the strength of its citizens and the thousands upon thousands of small victories won every day.

    As always, thanks for writing.

    1. Thanks, Thomas. Your words are kind as always.

      I do wish, though, that those four lines were capable of pumping out basements, or providing heat and power and light. I suppose that silliness and distraction has some small value in the wake of adversity. That I can do.


  2. If it's any consolation, those four lines compelled me to make a donation to the American Red Cross' Disaster Relief efforts. It may not pump water out of a basement or provide shelter, but it may feed a few folks.