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In a shocking new report, Japanese poet Haruchi Furakata didn’t do a haiku for some reason.
“I was reading the first line of Furakata’s most recent poem when I encountered the most surprising thing. I got to the fifth syllable, expecting the line to end, but it just kept going up until a whopping eight syllables,” announced Oscar Nottin, who was furiously typing up a complaint email to his library about receiving a misprint of Furakata’s last collection. “And then the second line had ten syllables! What kind of messed up haiku is this?”
“I’m branching out as an artist, experimenting with new and unexpected forms. The greatest artists are the ones who take daring risks even when the world tells them no,” said Furakata, who was filing through hundreds of hateful letters and death threats. “These days, I’m trying my hand with dirty limericks. This is one I’m working on: ‘There once was a poet Haruchi, Who dressed head to toe in all gucci, And everyone said, He’s the greatest in bed, And that’s why he…’ and I don’t know how to end it.”
At press time, an Italian cook didn’t make a pizza for some reason.
