On crutches the Boeing employee
saw Bethlehem. Between negotiations
he wept, completely American.
He negotiated crumbling brick paths
thought about matriarchy
and extreme discomfort,
a broken man, alone.
And, a transliteration of a haiku by my favorite haiku master, Kobayashi Issa:
budding bleeding heart
together beneath the firs
collecting tribute
Then, a long drive, and the idea of making poems from pop song doo wahs, ahem:
Do we do pasta?
Scoobydo though not.
Sue needs you Mathah.
Or from nursery rhymes:
Knee high ski guy, oh!
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