the winner of the great british bake off

post-it note poems, my Frankenstein moment, and July's nonsense holidays

Tiny, bite-sized poems are one of my favorite things in the world. Good short-form poetry is startling, satisfying, and densely packed with imagery and emotion. It’s also accessible; when my illness acts up and my ability to think melts away, haiku and other tiny poems are also often the only thing I can read or write. 

My files are brimming with pretty decent tiny poems, some published, some not. It occurred to me that it might be fun to start sharing them here. (What better outlet for teeny-weeny poems than small magic?) 

This one’s for all my fellow GBBO enthusiasts, bakers, and perfectionists. Extra gingham bonus points if you can identify the winner.

The Winner of the Great British Bake Off
is weeping, the lead-crystal cake stand dangling
limp by her side, the cameras unblinking, & when
at last she speaks her mouth is quavering,
amazed:

I’m

good enough

---

other things i wrote

• I re-read Frankenstein last month. While I will never, in a bazillion years, sympathize with Viktor “No One On This Entire Earth Has Ever Suffered Like I Do” Frankenstein, I am beginning to understand, in a low-key way, what it feels like to be relentlessly pursued by your own ill-conceived creation. For The Last Word on Nothing, I wrote about an old publication that won’t leave me alone.

• And an oldie: my 2017 myth-in-sexts poem “Amaryllis”.

---

tenderness toward existence days

CW: food mentions in this section.

The theme for July holidays is…silliness.

• Fool’s Paradise Day (July 13)

• Shark Awareness Day (14)

• National Fresh Spinach Day (16)*

• Moon Day (20)

• Sprinkle Day (23)

• Tell an Old Joke Day (24)

• Take Your Houseplant for a Walk Day (27)

• National Water Gun Fight Day (29)

• Jump for Jelly Beans Day (31)

---

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. I’m curious about the humans holding the tin cans on the other end of this twinkly string. If you’re so inclined, I’d love it if you’d leave a comment to tell me what sounds the birds make where you are, how your shoes feel, the last ice cream flavor you enjoyed, a description of a cool cloud you saw—anything, really.

*If you haven’t yet tried eating fresh spinach stems by themselves, consider this your official invitation.