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our girl's first words were a hummed tune

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

Toronto, 2013.07.28

I think The Girl is back to normal. Today we were at the beach, and as I was holding her I realized that she was humming a little tune. The tune bounced around in my head and I made the connection: it was the same "Bird of Prey" song that I sing while holding her aloft by her legs while she balances herself. So I did that, and she wore a huge grin and even giggled a bit, the first time I've heard her do that. It was a joy to see her with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair and smiling so!

rand()m quote

Immature poets imitate mature poets steal bad poets deface what they take and good poets make it into something better or at least something different. The good poet welds his theft into a whole of feeling which is unique utterly different than that from which it is torn the bad poet throws it into something which has no cohesion. A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time or alien in language or diverse in interest.

—T.S. Eliot