By Richard Grahn
Evanston, Illinois, USA
Spaceman, always looking up, a compass with no needle, lost it shooting up.
Always shy a half-a-moon, he’s off to Heaven to file a complaint—
too many burned-out stars, more every day;
got to get to Heaven . . . make a few changes.
soup kitchen steps
for a pillow
his last night on Earth
~
Failed Haiku Issue 86