Two-line Poems

The arts of Confucius are my lullabies
Singing soft fortunes into my ears
 
Father, our timing has run to the train yard
It searches for the tracks amidst the rain
 
The stars are made of teardrops
Some from happiness, some from sadness
 
Scurvy sea dog
Post for a leg
 
Nighttime winds through the forest
It comes closer to he and she
 
Portable words crackle in stereo hiss
Sent through the air to deliver a kiss
 
Soda pop, the savior of Latin America, injects itself
Into the glass bottles that float down the rivers
 
Stripes sometimes curve
For better or worse