March 2009
1 post
7 tags
Terrible Poetry at 38,000 Feet
1
I write bad haiku. “Five-seven-five”—no less, no more. Doggone, I broke it.
2
Composition books: thirty-one college-ruled lines; blue across, pink down.
3
Chicago deep-dish looks good—tastes good, maybe—but don’t sit well in me.
4
Strong personal scents? Appropriate for hot dates, but never for planes.
5
Four students, one prof talk doctrine of baptism: credo-/ paedo-,...