May 5: "Octopus Sonneteer," a Little Fun, "Lilac Poetry"

What do you get when you cross Billy Collins with a mollusk?

Octopus Sonneteer

by:  Billy Collins

He wrote the octave

all at once

the dashed off the final six

while uncorking a bottle of champagne.

Billy Collins is having a little fun with this poem.

I did not have a whole lot of fun today, aside from leading a lovely poetry workshop with some friends this evening.  Spent the day grading and wishing I wasn't grading.

However, when I took my puppy out for a walk around my backyard this afternoon, I did notice that my lilac bushes are sprouting green leaves and purple buds, which means the summer is closer than I thought.

When Saint Marty submits his final grades, that will be the official start of summer.

Lilac Poetry

by:  Martin Achatz

I watch the bushes

revise my backyard

into bruised monostiches,

couplets, tercets

until I wake one morning

to the perfume of a purple

Paradise Lost.

April 14: Start of Summer, Plans, New Cartoon

Summer is approaching.  I know it's coming.  My summer really begins in about three weeks, when I submit the final grades for my two Intro to Film classes and the checks from the university stop coming for about four months.  That's when things get really interesting.  By the end of August, I'm looking at the totals in my savings and checking accounts and thinking, "Please, God, just help me get through the next three weeks."  And that's without factoring in surprise car repairs and other bills.

The start of summer is one of my favorite things.  I love the promise of it.  The possibility of it.  I always have big plans.  I'm going to write a new chapbook of poems.  I'm going to finish my memoir.  I'm going to start my resume-writing business.  I'm going to start running every day.  Yeah, I love the start of summer.

Of course, I rarely accomplish half the things I set out to do.  I have more time.  No teaching.  No grading.  However, the worries start piling up.  Bills to pay--dance lessons, gas, water, cable, phone.  The normal stuff.  And I have $1200 less a month to do it with.  That's the part of summer I hate.

I always hope I'll get summer classes to teach.  I never do.  I always hope I won't be faced with some big car repair.  I always do.

Saint Marty loves summer.  He just wishes it was about four paychecks shorter.

The Confessions of Saint Marty