The Truths I Shun Follow Me, Mumbling.

The Haiku Lets Meaning Float; The Aphorism Pins It Down.

Pleasure Usually Comes When Called, But Not Happiness.

I Seldom Remember My Father, But I Sneeze And Rub My Nose The Way He Did. I Also Love My Son With Grief And Anger, As He Did.

I Answered My Father's Demands For Sympathy With Silence.

Call On Literary Convention, And It Will Gladly Tell Your Story For You.