Something new is wrong. Poet in mirror lip-syncs song of pure terror. Never shave again. Midwinter folding, he finds clothes left from summer, vows to get a grip. Bookstore eyes like moons, seek out thick tomes, mile-long words.
Brain pleads for mercy.
Super Bowl was born from pun, insuperable, misunderstanding. Misunderstanding, Imperfectibility, three-word haiku sought. Go on to January 1999 . Return to the Editorial Haiku home page .