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the appearing

nothing more
magical:
appearing,

cutting through
all the noise,
a seeding

whimsically
reminding
You Are Here.

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” – Sylvia Plath

I don’t like to show the images I draw from – I really am dreadful at depicting reality – but the frilly little seedlings near the foot of this Italian fever dream of a fountain shepherdess or whatever (the thing has a giant crack in the base, so it’s doubly ridiculous) – are everything good.

Every single year, I find something to observe which gets me shaking my head all over again. Observing the seedlings this morning in two hour increments has been WILD. I am literally watching them grow, millimeters higher every time I look. I may get nothing else done today but looking. How little I care.

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If you haven’t yet had the opportunity to read the final lines of the Progressive Poem, the official version wraps up today. Some days I had my doubts with how we’d finish, as this one meandered through a poetic landscape named for poets and inhabited by books – and feathered words – and imbued with the presence of Earth which added (perhaps) real birds. What was so clearly felt was how much we all wanted to put into it. I’m grateful for the deft pens that kept us on the map and out of the weeds. The books – the birds – the trip? – has been brought safely home. It’s been a ride – as always, a testament to community, and the ability of wildly different poetic personalities to nevertheless produce something lovely.

Meanwhile, it’s been a ride around here, too. Today I have another double tricube – a Delian cube? A rhombic dodecahedron? – but we’re nearly finished with the month, so I have to toss the rules at least once or twice… Also, please ignore the words in the drawing for the typed ones, as the typed version is accurate.

chapel

sun yellow
a pint-sized
cathedral

mute, witness
commonplace
sacraments:

recitals,
spelling bees,
services.

one hundred-
and fifty-
two years

neighborhood
cornerstone,
welcoming

one more crowd –
a grand night
for singing.

I occasionally get to sing in the Boy’s recitals if they need a soprano to sing as part of someone’s opera chorus or backup singer – it’s a hoot, and requires a bit of scrambling to learn pieces sometimes. This year, all of the voice students are singing It’s A Grand Night for Singing from Rodger’s and Hammerstein’s 1945 musical, State Fair, and it’s such a delightful rollicking piece of music. The little yellow chapel, bright and acoustically live, perfectly lends itself to the gloriously Technicolor gratuitousness of it all.

{pf: npm ’26 • poetry peeps engage the ekphrastic}

Welcome to another Poetry Friday Adventure!


Poetry Peeps! You’re invited to our poetry challenge for the month of MAY.

Here’s the scoop: we’re having a Poetry Potluck. In the spirit of sharing a plate of poetry together, we invite you to grab a form you like, season it to your taste, and share it with us and all of your Poetry Peeps – it’s a good time for all of us to remember what we’ve learned, and to celebrate. Are you in? Good! You’ll have the month to craft your creation and share it May 29th in a blog post and/or on social media with the tag #PoetryPals. We hope you’ll bring a dish!


From Process…

Happy National Poetry Month, Poetry Friends! Ekphrastic poetry is one of my favorite, favorite forms, simply because I am an avid photographer, using my phone far more often for its photo capabilities than its ability to connect me to anyone else. I have been mildly obsessed with Springtime in the garden of this house, as come May we’ll have been here for one year, and we’re still in the “discovery” phase. Did we know we had daffodils? Nope, not until they started showing up. Ditto for the hyacinths. Now I’ve found my new best love – bearded irises. I’m entranced.

…to Poetry

Today the Poetry Seven are also poem-ing in honor of a birthday! My NPM project is daily tricubes along with Very Bad Drawings (TM), but in the spirit of wanting to bring a gift to my friend, I’ll spare our birthday girl my artwork and share a recent garden snap instead. Happy Birthday to Sara Lewis Holmes, who is a bright spark, shining undiminished even in darkness – living aglow not “in spite of” but living into her Because. Farsee-er, questioner, somesuch-er, friend – may you continue to live all the days of your life. Love you, Sara.

iris awake

awaiting
its moment
through chill dark

comes beauty,
arriving
with the sun

breathtaking –
no shrinking
violet.

My Poetry Sisters are much more on top of things this month, engaging the ekphrastic in their own ways. Liz’s poem is here. Laura’s poem is here, Cousin Mary Lee’s is here, and Sara’s poem is here. Tricia’s poem is here, and Karen’s poem is here. Michelle K’s poem is here. Carol V’s poem is a puff of dandelion here, and Jill’s poem is here – welcome Jill! Margaret’s cypress poem is here. More Peeps may show up throughout the weekend, so don’t forget to check back to see their links rounded up here.

Our lovely hostess this Poetry Friday is Irene – and Emily Dickinson – so don’t miss stopping by for more poetry, and thank-you, Irene, for hosting.


In the chaos of life bursting into being, change insisting on its way, and finally a little sun, some things remain the same – unchanged despite our desire or efforts. Some things have also remained the same in spite of us – which is a bit of joy in the tangle. I hope this season reminds you to look for what is unfolding beautifully along with what is unfolding chaotically. Take deep breaths, and walk with measured steps. Life is change – and chaos – but I hope that today especially that you can be a calm in your own storm. Remember that you are well-loved.

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This morning in the bathroom, I realized that both the showers are glassed in, thus constituting “windows,” thus technically coming under my wholly arbitrary ‘windows’ poetry rule… And now you’ll be tormented with my “shower thoughts” for the rest of the month, you’re welcome.

So, I don’t know if it’s a Spring thing or if there’s some other denom-specific significant thing I’m missing, but the Presbyterians are having baby baptisms frequently these days. And each time a baby objects to the whole… thing, the parents look like they want to sink through the floor. And I just want to call down from the choir loft and say, “HEY! Tell them they’re doing great!” Because honestly? If a random smiley man said some stuff to me I didn’t understand and then caressed my nearly bald head with water which is probably at best tepid? You’d better believe I’d let him know my thoughts on the matter. Loudly.

(TANGENT: does anyone remember the water gun christenings and Easter …Holy Water spritzing of 2020? The babies were perhaps even more offended then [or just confused]). Mind you, I’m wholly and deliberately missing the point, but dang it, babies should react negatively at the wildly strange interaction that is infant baptism. It’s an important survival reflex. The kids are all right.

Early Displays of Common Sense

Prudently,
baptisms
involve tears.

An infant’s
instinctive
rejection:

NO STRANGERS
WITH WATER!!!

(Good job, kid.)

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This week we have arrived at the portion of the NPM celebration wherein I acknowledge that I will be so glad when it’s May. Not because I can’t write a daily poem – I can, and probably should. Not because I can’t draw a daily doodle, either, though these images are only just now becoming the shorter, quick-sketch thing they were meant to be from the beginning, with fewer attempts at a photo-realistic literal and more impressionistic and observational within a metaphorical window… but because I always (always, always) set myself some project expectation that I absolutely struggle to complete. While the poems are moving from externally observant and becoming more internal, I’m finding that the form is inhibiting me – though this was a deliberate choice. Tricubes are meant for brevity, after all, and this is a process to teach myself to lean into that – but it’s just… hard. Normally I use poetry to process. Often there’s more I want to say, but it feels like dwelling – and I’m not going to change forms, though I feel the desire. Additionally, I DO have other things to do…

swinging bridge

between now
and back then,
a crevasse:

dear parents,
leave something:
some kindness –

memories
of soft hands
as a bridge.

Poetic addendum: Saw family this weekend. People of color who experienced physical ‘correction’ have a number of people telling them that culturally this is ‘necessary’ or ‘just how it is,’ or any number nonsensical things. I think there’s a part of us that goes cold and doesn’t recover, and when the punishing parent is approaching their four-score and whatever, and you still don’t feel safe to be familiar with them… what has the ‘culture’ done? What have we normalized? What is the profit…?

hourglass
avalanche
forces hands –

we can’t hold
time’s passage:
sand’s slipping.

leave something
in loving
memory.

I guess a double tricube could be a new form?

{constant reader’s reads: great graphics}

Dear TBR:

Today’s effortless Three On A Theme: She’s Reading report is brought to you by Girls Doin’ Stuff, and Finding Your Place and… graphic novel greatness.

UPROOTED, by Ruth Chan: Don’t you just love this cover? And, can we normalize authors writing their name in whatever languages they speak? The use of Chinese characters here is just so cool.

This is a great book to check off a whole host of Read Harder challenges – an Asian protagonist, a book with a non U.S. setting, and a memoir. Ruth Chan both wrote and illustrated this outstanding book.

Thirteen-year-old Ruth is filled with fear when her parents announce that they’re moving back to Hong Hong from her hometown from Toronto. Though Ruth is a Canadian citizen, it IS going “back” to Hong Kong – for her parents. They’re moving to the island for her father’s job, but Hong Kong is where Ruth’s mother is FROM. She’s over the moon to be going back, and Dad is excited about the benefits and security of the new job, but… Ruth, an only child who has been welded at the hip to her two best friends for years, is feeling uprooted, bereft, and lonely.

It’s hard not being Chinese enough for your Chinese family. Her Cantonese, only reluctantly spoken sometimes to begin with, is definitely not good enough for her cousins. And yikes – she’s not in middle school in Hong Kong – nope, she’s in high school type classes, and she has chemistry already. Academic rigor and a language barrier aside, Ruth is missing her father, who is often away over night for work trips, and her mother, who, living so close to every cousin, sister, and best friend she grew up with is often away for afternoon coffees, morning gym trips, and weekend shopping. Ruth has to do SOMETHING to find her feet. She clings to the stories her father tells her when he’s home – and somehow, hearing about how the family clung together and made it through some of the roughest times in history give her fresh determination to make it through.

I’ve been meaning to read all of Shannon Hale’s REAL FRIENDS series, and I’ve just realized that it, too is considered memoir – so we’re two for two! Sixth grade Shannon is really spending a lot of time thinking about of what it means to be a friend, what it means for her to fit in with her friends, and …how she fits. Or, IF she fits. After standing up for herself against a classroom bully and spending a summer with her first job, Shannon is sure sixth grade is going to be a breeze. After all, she’s now friends with both the oldest and the most well-known sixth grade girl. She’s going to be a queen of the school, and she and her friends will finally be on top of things. Of course… it’s middle school, so doesn’t actually turn out that way. Not only does this book detail Shannon’s continuing drama with the close circle of friends she’s known throughout elementary school, the book also explores her confused expectations as to what girls are allowed to and expected to do – weighted heavily with her mother’s input as shaped by the Church of Latter-day Saints – and her concerns about her marriageability. I had a rueful chuckle about this. By the age of eleven-twelve, roughly Shannon’s age through sixth grade and the beginning of seventh, as this book covers, I was outspoken in my desire not to marry, and told anyone who would listen that I was just going to do my own thing, live in my own house, read as much as I wanted, and ignore people. (IRONIC how this is still a theme for my life.) However, the adults around me brushed off my desire for independence from the traditional role I saw fulfilled around me, and rather than asking me why, or responding to my insistent disagreement with curiosity, they constantly told me, “Yes, you will” or, “You’ll change your mind.” Shannon timidly wonders if she’s ever going to be compatible with a man if none of the boys in her school like her… and she doesn’t know how to take being left behind when the girls around her pair off. She doesn’t think that’s what she wants… but, maybe she doesn’t know the right thing to want… That difficulty with deciding on her own opinion plagues Shannon as she tries vainly to keep up with the latest group, the latest movie, the latest TV shows and characters, all in an effort to not be left behind, out of step, or forgotten. The book also explores intrusive thoughts and acute anxiety, normalizing an experience that Shannon struggles with throughout the book. While it doesn’t end on a cliffhanger, I do find myself wondering how she will negotiate trying to keep up and fit in as she gets older. The book does end on a hopeful note, as Shannon refuses to let her tight circle of friends determine which elective she’s going to take or change the direction of her interests.

This book is both written and illustrated by Sarah Sax.

Viv Sullivan used to be plain old Olivia Vivian Sullivan – an unknown nerd intensely into her fandoms and her two best friends. She also used to hate picture day, because there were umpteen Olivias in her school, and nothing making her stand out from the rest. Forgettable in a way that makes her feel invisible, even changing her hair style for picture day is a battle she can’t win, as her mother insists on helping her with a “classic” french braid and making her a hand-knitted cardigan to war. When she sees a fellow student interviewing students about their cool outfit choices for her vlog, Viv is done with being overlooked. Her favorite vlogger talks about living their truth a lot, and so Viv decides that there has to be a truth better than the one everyone thinks they know about her. In the bathroom she cuts off her French braid, and her messy, choppy hair gets attention from everyone – including her mother, who is called to the school to pick her up. A stylist straightens the jagged edges a bit, but to Viv’s mother, the damage is done. For better or for worse, Viv’s out-there action has drawn attention. She’s now what she didn’t know she wanted to be – an influencer. Now all Viv wants to do is to KEEP that attention. She pushes for bigger and bigger actions from herself, and from her two best friends who… didn’t actually sign up for Viv’s style of truth living. When it all crashes – as it inevitably has to – Viv must decide a.) if she really wants to still be friends with her best friends, and b.) if there’s a line between living your truth and living a version of yourself that’s fictional and pretending it’s your truth.

This book surprised me a little; I felt like Viv’s brashness was tempered by how truly good at fulfilling the dreams of others, but as her attention-seeking escalates, I wondered if it was being driven by something more than her personality difference with her mother. I guess not every action stems from some deep place of hurt or whatnot, but it was difficult to feel like I really understood what brought Viv to where she was – but this is from the perspective of a person who has only ever met one person with her same name and whose greatest wish was to find her name on a gas station keychain. This book is the first in a series.

Fresh onto the TBR:

  • Somebody’s Daughter, Ashley Ford
  • The Friend Zone Experiment, Zen Cho
  • The Tribulations of Ross Young, Supernat PA, A.J. Sherwood

Reality is overrated – but books are more than escape. Sometimes, they’re a platform to stand on, high enough to help you see another point of view. Stay reading!

        

Until the next book, 📖

Still A Constant Reader

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We’ve reached the halfway point of the month, and the location of a new window that really isn’t a window, exactly. I mean, it’s a screen. We were always going to have to get to the screens.

As a person who lived through the moral panic of video games as a child and then a teacher, and who is living with everyone else through the genuine cause-and-effect panic that is the morally bankrupt application of uncontrolled AI, this too-much-this-or-that in terms of digital interaction has solidified into the realization that forevermore, It’s Always Going to Be Something. People will always be upset about that which doesn’t fit within their parameters of societal or personal behavior or expectation. Even before screens, and reading on screens, my father sought to eradicate my predilection towards bookishness – without his control over the characters in the books nor over my thoughts about their actions or words or what I was learning from them, the contents of my mind must have felt chaotic, untrammeled, and wholly out of his reach… just like an individual’s thoughts ought to be.

May we guard the freedom to read forever.

avoid, escape, iterate

what mattered
was distance:
diminished

consciousness
receding
present, past –

the future
replete with
evasions.

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Heard the factoid this morning that Queen Elizabeth I’s courtiers blackened their teeth with soot to mimic her own genuinely decaying teeth, as in 1533 their monarch’s unrestrained love of sugar had left its mark and dentistry was not yet really A Thing. The podcast compared this to the myriad women who have gone under the knife to change their appearance and appeal to the putative head of this government in the year of our Lord twenty twenty-six. …And, I was thinking how we’re all grasping so frantically, even since primary school, for somewhere to belong, in the most galling fashion at times (see: Junior High). …and, how standing out and solitariness is not how most of us are naturally inclined, and how much effort it must take to stay true to oneself in that environment, and not even change your makeup routine to resemble the herd… And, how in two years or six months or less, the herd is going to look wholly different and even more ridiculous than it does now, and for those whose surgeries can’t be undone, then what? For whom are we changing our very bodies and selling our souls, with no reciprocity?

Collectively, We The People need Dr. Rudine’s windows, mirrors, and sliding glass doors… and for heaven’s sake to maybe have a sit and a quiet think… Because beyond all of the other *waves hands* …murderous, callous, unethical, illegal, ungodly -ists and -isms, none of that “go along to get along” stuff is ever sustainable. Weren’t we all supposed to learn that in junior high?

transcendent

confidence
shouldn’t lie
in “prettiest.”

upending
privilege,
the wisest

transcend it.
Indifferent
assurance.

Hummingbirds (which I cannot draw) are the ultimate in assured indifference. Beautiful, but may or may not come to the feeder. Exquisite, but may merely give you a quick side-eye as they pass. Stunning, and could not care less what you’re all about. #goals.

{constant reader’s reads: a girl who shines}

DEAR TBR:

This is the year’s first novel-in-verse that I’ve read – and boy, does it shine.

The year is 1963 and fifth grader Cooper Dale is not looking forward to her school year. She has The Mean Teacher, and she’s dreading dealing with Ms. Keating, whom everyone says is just terrible. Cooper hates being the only Colored girl in her class, and hates how everyone looks at her when the history lesson is on slavery. Only the summer before, four girls only a little older than she is were killed in a church bombing by the Klan. The world seems full of scary, mean white people who hate her for being the color she is, and it’s dispiriting and exhasuting. What makes it all worse is a boy named Wade Carter, because Wade just can’t seem to leave Cooper alone. He is a bully, and his bullying is almost always racial in nature, taking the form of microaggressions that are not terribly micro, when taken together. Wade wears Cooper down. She loves her family, loves their gatherings, and otherwise loves her culture, but at school, she dearly wishes that she were white and could blend into the crowd.

Cooper is a worrier, and like many kids in early middle grade, though her worrying is part of her growing up and growing to see adults – and the larger world – as entities separate and with their own backstories, those worries sometimes consume her. She worries about her parents, and wishes they didn’t have to work so hard. She worries about disappointing them, and worries about seeming likeable. She worries that her siblings and cousins and extended family will be ashamed of the way she thinks and feels – and sometimes acts. Cooper feels like it’s harder to be herself – whoever that is – because her parents have told her repeatedly that she needs to “shine” in all that she does. To Cooper, that means that she should make straight A’s. She struggles with this. More, as Ward’s pestering gets under her skin, Cooper struggles with her behavior, earning herself a smack with a ruler from her scary teacher, her parents’ disappointment, and worse – her own. Why can’t this year be easy? Though Cooper’s dearest wish is to be just treated like everyone else, that’s never going to happen for the lone Black girl in a white-dominated school in 1960’s America. What Cooper finally determines is that her only option to counteract her frustrations are to shine, like her mother says she should. She’ll be so good that no one can ignore her. Cooper asks the input of her older siblings, and her cousins on how they succeed and deal with things, and vows to make her shine brighter. Ward Carter’s family hiring her mother as household help while Mrs. Carter is ill IMMEDIATELY makes that 1000% harder.

Still, as the school year goes on, through its ups and downs, Cooper begins to faintly understand that what she really should be looking to be is radiant – not just shiny on the outside, but radiating light and goodness and kindness from the inside that isn’t just external polish. And when real-world trouble touches their school community, Cooper finds out that radiance can’t be easily extinguished.

This book is accessible in terms of having short, spare poems, tons of historical references, from the Kennedys to Crayola’s “flesh” tone’s shift to peach, Ed Sullivan introducing the Beatles, and a classmate whose interest in African culture and language really reflects the shift to the nascent 60’s attitudes of “Blackness” as divorced from the outdated terms “Negro” and “Colored.” Cooper is a young, but thoughtful fifth grader, and the novel takes the far-ranging themes of racism and prejudice and recolors them through the lens of forgiveness, family, and community. No one is perfect in this book – but no one and nothing is irredeemable, even bullies. Vaunda Micheaux Nelson subtly weaves a steady emotional pulse of a coming of age book with the everyday banalities of the fifth grade to create a quiet but memorable novel in verse that has a lot of heart.

Fresh onto the TBR:

  • Somebody’s Daughter, Ashley Ford
  • The Friend Zone Experiment, Zen Cho
  • The Tribulations of Ross Young, Supernat PA, A.J. Sherwood

In a world that seeks to dull us, may we ever be the radiance that it needs. Stay reading!

Still A Constant Reader