Wait, what park?

Kilowatt Park is a smallish park in Wilder, Vermont, on the banks of the Connecticut River that divides Vermont and New Hampshire. It’s my neighborhood park.

Is it special in some way?

It’s special to me!

Writing about the same thing all the time seems fairly limiting.

It is. But writing a haiku is also limiting. Limitations force you to focus more and get creative.

Aren’t you afraid of running out of things to write about?

Oh, terrified. But I feel that way most years. If I know nothing else, it’s that, if I run out of things to say, it’s not for lack of material. It’s because I’m not paying enough attention.

Weekly publishing doesn’t give you much time to edit.

Yeah, publishing every week means I don’t have a lot of time for thinking, re-reading, revising, and weeding out the mediocre and the terrible. So you’re seeing a lot of stuff in a less processed state than if you were reading my work in a literary magazine.

So why do it?

Because every park deserves a poet. Or an artist. Or a troupe of dancers, or troubadours, or clowns. Besides, the title of Poet Laureate of Kilowatt Park was just sitting around, unused by anyone at all. It would be a pity to see such a nice title go to waste, so I polished it off and decided to wear it myself. If someone else really wants it, they can have their turn in 2023.

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