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.