This Haiku Will Die. But Not Just Yet ….
I pressed, pumped it in.
All Black Holes smirked their : ” So what ?”
I’ll print my Festschrift.
But if God is light ?
Phota daunce through this white hair.
Rinse your two glasses….
Plato got this right ?
Curve plus curve makes circle.
Yes, we tried loving.
These light-waves bend, kiss.
She plus he, the old story….
Five syllables. Terse.