Did U ever wonder how an outraged monk could be like a frightened squid while being quite unlike the squid in a closely related way? Neither did I. The answer hit me before the question, while I pondered an intriguing juxtaposition in
that inspired me to write a haiku.
Squids and Scribblers
Squids squirt ink to flee.
Writers also (sometimes), but
often to confront.
Long after Martin Luther’s time, fundamental institutions have yet again strayed from their missions and been corrupted. Of course, people write (and mesh their words with images) very differently now. Writers depend on the media (rather than a trip to the hardware store) to nail things to doors. But if U listen carefully, U can still hear hammering.
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