Work and more work is keeping me a bit too busy to do extra writing. However, in an attempt to perhaps fire my engines, or try the group critiquing process again (I've had twenty years of it and took a break), I've decided to attend my writer's group again, Helix.
We have somehow moved into summertime email banter about Tesseracts 12, matriarchs, buttering tiny women (odd dreams), SF conventions and various sundry comments. Which included an odd haiku by Casey Wolf.
So I responded with:
Thinking of writing
The navel grows a forest
My book is not done
To which she replied:
thinking of writing
i read email and have baths
small ant burrowing
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1 comment:
odd? what's so odd about:
my mom gripes a lot
i wish she would shut up now
a dog pukes slowly
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