You know the rules, right? Three lines. Five syllables, then seven, then five again. I decided to write five of ’em because they say we will never understand each other until we reduce the language to 17 syllables. And yes, because this is 5tern.com.
ne
within the steel fences
a free, keen hand signs
whilst watching the eye
white chocolate
no-look elbow pass
nobody like him ever
he played like he knew
to student
we were once alike:
certain, glib, wild-eyed, pompous.
and then i was mugged
sound and fury
we always extol
hands, eyes & community,
but is love enough?
two thousand and twenty
who do you’ve got?
that veteran in south bend
knows seven languages.
Brendan Stern 
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My brother, the poet. Never doubted it.
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