So here we are in migraine land, and one thing I can tell you? Reading disjunctive avant-garde poetry, even the charming sort doing songbirds and you’re set to teach it tomorrow – not so much fun when the words are sound-and-light-knives.
Thought instead I’d begin the happy work of spreading the word of my students’ blogs. Here’s one that’s found its footing (and feathering and yes taloning) right quick. finch binch. It’s bad it’s sassy it’s rude. It’s got a chip on its shoulder you get closer it turns out’s a bird might be live might be dead.
I’ll let it speak most for itself in situ (go there! do!) but quick what its author says of it:
from videos to mod podge collages to pictures of birds doing people things to documentation of the bird wake I once held just expect lotsa bird stuff and nestle on in
That’s a prose style and ¾.
the art of compost 
:^)
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