from Wit of the staircase
When an Argentinean rugby team played the high school team at lunchtime, the English teachers had a poetry party. All morning the librarians were busy inflating balloons and writing verses on them in vivid. We sat in a circle and read poems to each other, but when the deputy principal said “poetry is about words not ideas,” we argued.
A seventh former came and read something he’d just written, with a rhyming couplet at the end – “a shout out to my man Seamus Heaney.”
The rugby game went on long into fourth period, so I drifted into The Book of Clouds. I found Altocumulus, like a conjurer’s word and the glory effect is magic.