{"id":5460,"date":"2019-06-06T19:45:21","date_gmt":"2019-06-07T00:45:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/archive.onesentencepoems.com\/?p=5460"},"modified":"2020-01-09T13:20:57","modified_gmt":"2020-01-09T19:20:57","slug":"5460","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.onesentencepoems.com\/?p=5460","title":{"rendered":"John L. Stanizzi “POND” 5.5.19"},"content":{"rendered":"

John L. Stanizzi<\/h1>\n

POND<\/span><\/h2>\n

5.5.19<\/em>
\n10.57 a.m.<\/em>
\n53 degrees<\/em><\/p>\n

rain<\/em><\/p>\n

Purest concerto of toads and peepers around the pond, the woods on the
\noutskirts, everywhere, until I approach and they preserve their silence in the
\nnooks in which they hide in the open, invisible right in front of us, like
\ndollops of gray clay given, besides their malleability, the gift of song.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

“They are from a project called POND. These short poems are acrostics. This is a one-year-long project. Everyday, at different times during the day, I visit our pond with notebook and camera in hand. I jot down some notes, and take a picture or two, if a good photo op. presents itself. Then I head home and write a four line acrostic using the letters P, O, N, and D.\u00a0 I do not use any of my first words more than once. I need a different P, O, N, and D word every day for a year; I began the book on November 9, 2018 and will complete it on November 9, 2019.”<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

John L. Stanizzi <\/strong><\/span>is author of <\/em>Ecstasy Among Ghosts, Sleepwalking, Dance Against the Wall, After the Bell, Hallelujah Time!, High Tide \u2013 Ebb Tide, Four Bits \u2013 Fifty 50-Word Pieces, and<\/em> Chants. His poems have appeared in P<\/em>rairie Schooner, American Life in Poetry, The New York Quarterly, and many others. His newest book. <\/em>Sundowning, will be out later this year with Main Street Mag.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

John L. Stanizzi POND 5.5.19 10.57 a.m. 53 degrees rain Purest concerto of toads and peepers around the pond, the woods on the outskirts, everywhere, until I approach and they preserve their silence in the nooks in which they hide in the open, invisible right in front of us, like dollops of gray clay given, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"aside","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}},"_wpscppro_dont_share_socialmedia":false,"_wpscppro_custom_social_share_image":0},"categories":[9],"tags":[543],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nJohn L. 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