I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

I spent all of the snow in the land of Doh,
but I paid only half of the going rate for all
of the impossible things they sell there.
We don't have words to describe them
but each comes wrapped in silk with one
silk worm, killed and guilded, sewn
to the top as a button to hold it together.
Once it's opened, you can't use it until
you understand it a little more. I've tried.
Here's a haiku I wrote about mine:

Christmas present--
inside of the box,
the inside of a box.

No comments: