I’m a bit at the eleventh hour here with this invitation (SINCE IT BEGINS TONIGHT), but truly, you could join the experiment at any time. And I wanted to write this invitation especially to those who don’t necessarily fancy themselves to be poets.
Since August 1993, a shifting menagerie of writers has been waking up each night at 3:15 AM for the entire month of August to write. The original idea was:
to discover what connections would be made while writing separately, but together, at the same time for a month while under hypnagogic influences.
The experiment was so intriguing and inspiring it kept growing and morphing. Many writers have come to look forward to it every year. Many have created their own guidelines and experiments within the format. We love this as long as people maintain the point: to write in the hypnopompic/hypnagogic states (between sleeping and waking / waking and sleeping).
Anything posted to any “official” 3:15 publication or website maintains the RAW unedited material. Though many writers choose to publish their edited poems elsewhere. We like that, too.
A facebook page to stay in communication during the month:
Some samples from years past:
The 3:15 Experiment Website
Though not everyone chooses to post their poems (or even types them out).
And here is a thesis paper written by Gwendolyn Alley on the topic:
My invitation to you comes in the form of a poem.
you don’t have to be a poet
to write poetry
my father built greenhouses
and filled them with orchids
I believe people are meant
to get along with each other
the Indian taxi driver waves
me into my turn
gives me the right
of way as I cruise
the summer streets on my
I stop at the Holy Cross Anglican Church
to write down that line
about my dad’s orchids
before it spills into the road
with my juggled thoughts
of the two cherub-faced Mormon boys
who came to my front door
struggling to respond
when I told them:
Think of the metaphor of the ocean
how we can be drops
yet still disappear
into the One
before thanking them for their good work
and sending them on their way
tripping tongue-tied through the gate
no, you don’t have to be a poet
to write poetry
you just need to write
an open door