Sunday, October 14, 2007

Poetry Sunday: Spring Birds

I've had an incredibly busy week, and I'm still catching up on sleep. My arms are sore from helping a friend build his garage today, so this update will be in bullet-point form, with some bits to be expanded upon later:

  • Vegas trip was FANTASTIC! Do see Spamalot! It's spectabulous! Don't stay at TI. It's suck-o-tash.

  • While we were away, Electronic Arts bought BioWare. I'm ok. Dusty's ok. We're all ok. For now... [dun dun DUNNN!!!]

  • My panel with Tricky at Pure Spec III went pretty well, probably better than it should have, considering the general undercoordination of the event itself. Big hugs to everyone who came out to support us!

  • No-nos, my one-year-old nephew, said "bye-bye!" to me on the phone today. For the very first time! My womb hurts.

  • Below is today's poem, written back in June 2005 when I was still going up to St. Albert every Sunday to write with Poet's Ink. The core group just had their first collection of poetry published. Hooray for them! Boo-urns to me for quitting because of the 30-minute drive. Do you smell that? I think there's a fire being lit under my ass.

Spring Birds

In the back seat of a car
that is too big for its parking space
spring birds
fluttering, fussing
spring birds
chattering, chirping

In the back seat of a car
that is too small for its passengers
baby birds
changing, trying
baby birds
growing, flying

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