4/2 Oooh April, looking good this Spring

Tree House door at Bartlett Arboretum

I adore the month of April. That may seem a little self-serving, but I wasn’t born in April, and for most of my childhood, I despised my name. (see: Hey April, have you seen September?)

But my adult self loves all the things in bloom, all the bursting color, the vagaries of unpredictable Kansas weather, and of course, It’s National Poetry Month. How perfect is that?

Hope Springs Eternal, and the month of April embodies that. I’ve hosted prompt-a-day activities and set goals for myself in the past. Since I’m already working on the modest goal of producing 2 new poems a week, I’m going to stick to that right now so that I don’t otherwise overwhelm myself. If YOU’RE looking for some prompt ideas, I’ve released 10 from previous poetry marathons here: Prompts – April Pameticky

WARNING: You know those obnoxious cooking blogs that make you scroll and scroll to get past all that crap before you can get to the actual recipe? Yeah, this is 100% That If you just want to read a new poem, scroll on down. Or you can visit the poem where it lives sans all this explanation. see Made Myself Mythical.

New Project 1: Discography & Mythobiography

Poetry does not exist in a vacuum, and mine (perhaps more than most) is in constant dialog, both with other poems I’ve written, but also with things I’ve come in contact with in my life. I’ve written ekphrastically in response to visual work by other artists and also had my work ‘responded’ to. This, my friends, is my favorite place to dwell as a writer.

 [Check out Ekphrastic Review for some truly great contemporary ekphrastic work: https://www.ekphrastic.net/ ]

As I’ve also been considering music and sound, and its impact on who I am in that moment, I’m organizing a project around poems responding in some way to popular songs I’ve loved.

A quick conversation about copyright and fair use:

I am NOT an expert on copyright or intellectual property, but as some of my work collages phrases and lines from other work, I want to be very clear about intentional use.

  1. Copyright does NOT protect titles (don’t take my word for it: COPYRIGHT FAQ )
  2. I am NOT trying to pass off another artist’s work as my own or claim their words, phrases, or ideas as my own.
  3. I am VERY clear about who and where these lines of inspiration are coming from, even when I choose to ‘braid’ in a line from the other artist: In all cases, ATTRIBUTION is clear.
  4. I make NO effort to distribute or profit from someone else’s work
  5. Should any of these pieces become part of a larger collection that is then subsequently sold as a book, making myself and/or a publisher money, I might need to negotiate with artists for the use of their work. However, in most cases, I don’t have to take this step because of the doctrine of Fair Use and the principles of transformation: Hyperallergic is a fantastic resource.

I think this is a very delicate issue that inspires Fiery responses among writers, especially when allegations of plagiarism are career-ending for scholars. It makes writers hesitant to even refer to another’s work. Other artistic disciplines are less rigid in their interpretations and recognize that artists are constantly inspired by others’ work and technique.

A quick conversation about posting unpublished work on internet platforms:

As most publishing poets figure out very quickly, presses do NOT want work submitted that has typically been seen elsewhere, and that includes work shared on social media platforms or on personal blogs. I’m very careful about what I choose to share subsequently so that when I do submit, the work has not been shared elsewhere.  Essentially I always hold back pieces in a project.

But since I decided to share this piece already as a swipe poem on Instragram, I’m placing it here in the post and as part of my online work.  This WILL impact where and how I can submit it, but it’s such a great example of what I’m hoping to produce in this project, that I want to share it here as a sample.

This also gives me a chance to ‘document’ the creative process.

I’m fascinated with a number of things here:
What are some songs on my eternal playlist? (and how did they get there?)
What do I mean when I say ‘eternal’ playlist?
Who am I when I listen to this song?
Which part of the song becomes the earworm I can’t release?
How do I want a reader to experience the poem?
Is it necessary for the reader to have some experience of the song to ‘get’ the poem?
How is identity shaped?
What lies and myths do we tell ourselves to reshape identity or mask vulnerability?

For readers of a certain age, John Cusick’s film High Fidelity will definitely come to mind. But I want to be clear that I’m not interested in creating an autobiography that chronicles my life through song. These aren’t a chronological, where-was-i-when… set of poems. The songs here exist out of time for me, and I’m fascinated with whatever version of myself emerges when I hear these songs… the worst sort of ear-worms that bore their way in and rattle around until I become some newer version of self that has incorporated that lyric or line. I’m also 100% uninterested in creating a memoir of some kind with anything close to resembling ‘truth.’

As a reader:

  • You can choose to read the poem without ever experiencing the song (especially if you’ve never heard it).
  • You can choose to rely solely on your memory of the song while you read the poem
  • You can choose to scroll past the poem first and access the song lyrics (separate from music) OR
  • You can choose to scroll all the way down to experience the song and then return to the poem

All of these are acceptable ways to interact with the work. You’re welcome to comment about the work or ask questions about any part of this process.

Made myself mythical*
From the song “Daffodil” by Florence + The Machine
by April Pameticky

In the springtime, you will roll in new bloom grass 
until your body is covered in itches and chigger bites,

Your clothes will be stained red-dirt brown 
and smeared with green streaks,

You will lie in the starlight,
count the constellations you know, 

name the ones you don’t, 
bask in moonlight and cicadas.

You will grow and push past your skin, 
sluff away winter’s cells, 

wash the mud from your mouth,
admire the delicate transparency of your wings.

When you stand, your feet will grasp in the way of hands, 
pull blooms from stems, 

feed your hunger and your empty hull 
and you will love the saccharine sting of bitter smiles,

and bash in the heads of your enemies that walk silently inside you.

*this is the line that inspired the poem

Lyrics from “Daffodil”

I couldn’t help it, yes, I let it get in
The helpless optimism of spring
Worn out and tired, and my heart near retired
And the world bent double from weeping
And yet, the birds begin to sing, ooh, oh



I’m not bad, I’m not good
I drank every sky that I could
Made myself mythical, tried to be real
Saw the future in the face of a





We practice resurrection every night
Raising the dead under the moonlight
And in the gloaming, I start to cry
You’re a perfect pearl hung in the sky
There is no bad, there is no good
I drank all the blood that I could
Made myself mythical, tried to be real
Saw the future in the face of a





English sun, she has come
To kiss my face and tell me I’m that chosen one
A generation soaked in grief
We’re drying out and hanging on by the skin of our teeth
I never thought it would get this far
This somewhat drunken joke
Sometimes, I see so much beauty
I don’t think that I can cope
There is no bad, there is no good
I drank every sky that I could

Made myself mythical, tried to be real
Saw the future in the face of a





Want to watch the video and hear the song? Go HERE.

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