I hate haiku. I really do. It's not so much a dislike, as an abiding abhorrence:
The autumn lark calls
Cherry blossoms gently fall
And my gorge rises
You find Nirvana
In seventeen syllables?
You need to get laid
A waterfowl take wing
Over a still summer lake
BANG! There's my dinner
Monday, July 12, 2010
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