Without Beautiful, Perfect | Wings Upon their Backs

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I wrote this today:

Why is it that our kind
are our kind born without beautiful, perfect
wings upon our backs?

Yes, you know something is up when Gord starts writing verse again, though of course that is only one stanza. But only one poem today. Poetry is hard work.

Have my final class this afternoon — just getting together with some students to look at a few projects that need to get class approval, and to wish them luck on their finals. Then I will finish preparing for my Korean lesson — I’m trying to get two chapters’ study done for tonight’s lesson, so as to maximize the utility of the lessons — and I also have a small vocab list to review. My teacher was kind enough to write up a list of personality-related vocab for me as I struggled with it last time. I haven’t reviewed it for a few days, but I have had a lot going on.

As for the rest of this week, I was telling a friend I am pretty free all week, except for… and then I told him what I did have going on, and realized there was something every day of the week.

I have a single final exam tomorrow at noon, but the week is busy: there is all kinds of grading, and in addition I have events stretching into next week: a lunch with a musician whose bio I edited on Wednesday, a goodbye dinner for my friend and colleague Gwen (the third in a couple of weeks I’ve been to personally, and it still gets me every time that she and her husband are leaving, as they’ve been good friends to me); Friday, an art gallery opening, and Saturday some sort of SF-related get-together. Sunday, I treat my students from the Journalistic Writing class to some beer for having made the transition from a club-written magazine to a course-based magazine smooth and successful.

Wow, next week is probably when I’ll get more of my grading done, since nothing is booked till the following Friday night. I’m glad I’m not taking off for a few weeks after the end of semester. After the tumultuous last couple of weeks — especially last week, and its poetry-inducing events — I would never have been able to get everything done in time!

But I am busy trying to figure out how to walk a tightrope. With words as shoes.

2 thoughts on “Without Beautiful, Perfect | Wings Upon their Backs

  1. I read your little poem and instantly thought of the little blue ‘mongolian birthmarks’ all (or nearly all from what I understand) Koreans are born with. Usually they are on the upper hip, but the one’s that I saw when I was working in a little orphanage here in Korea reminded me of butterfly wings. Anyway, I thought your poem was beautiful and it reminded me of beautiful little Korean children, so thank you!

  2. Scott,

    Thanks! That’s only the first, very short, verse, so it’s hard to see what I’m saying there. I’m not longing to have been born with a Mongolian spot. But at the same time, that’s a lovely metaphor! :)

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