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ALBERT B. CASUGA, a Philippine-born writer, lives in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada, where he continues to write poetry, fiction, and criticism after his retirement from teaching and serving as an elected member of his region's school board. He was nominated to the Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007. A graduate of the Royal and Pontifical University of St. Thomas (now University of Santo Tomas, Manila. Literature and English, magna cum laude), he taught English and Literature (Criticism, Theory, and Creative Writing) at the Philippines' De La Salle University and San Beda College. He has authored books of poetry, short stories, literary theory and criticism. He has won awards for his works in Canada, the U.S.A., and the Philippines. His latest work, A Theory of Echoes and Other Poems was published February 2009 by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. His fiction and poetry were published by online literary journals Asia Writes and Coastal Poems recently. He was a Fellow at the 1972 Silliman University Writers Workshop, Philippines. As a journalist, he worked with the United Press International and wrote an art column for the defunct Philippines Herald.

Monday, July 4, 2011

A DIALOGUE ON ROBINS (Conversations with Stick Series #18)


(Conversations with Stick Series #18)

They beat me to the edge of the woods, Stick.
These chattering businessmen are like birds. 

Huh? They are birds, milord. Red-breast robins! 

And I thought this was my sylvan refuge. Bah!
Look, it’s a tulip tree with chirping red leaves!

Red breasts and pot-bellies, milord. Careful. 

What are you asking me to be cautious for?
This is my spot. I preside here. My territory. 

(Splatt! Tweet. Sweet! Tweet. Sweet. Splott!) 

That, milord, is something even God could not,
Would not warn you about, nor even help. 

Dang! Tulip leaves are bombing Libyan planes.
Hide, Stick. Take cover. These bombs stink! 

(Tut-tut-tut. A full-bellied robin released it.) 

Shut up, Stick! I don’t fancy flatulence either.

---Albert B. Casuga

Prompt: A convocation of robins in the tulip tree at the edge of the woods, like pot-bellied businessmen with their self-important tut-tut-tuts.---Dave Bonta, The Morning Porch. 07-01-11

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