For generations on end,

men and women have looked toward the heavens and been inspired to write poetry.  I'm no poet, but even in my own case, I managed to scratch out this haiku - 

I stare at the stars
counting the syllables in
Cassiopeia. 

But today's post isn't about me.  It's about B. Kliban.  When people remember Kliban (if they remember him at all) they think of him as the guy who drew all those cat cartoons.  But a closer look at his cartoon collections reveals that B. Kliban, at heart, was a poet -

There goes that rotten Haley's comet.
It makes me sick,  I want to vomit.

You can find those two lines of pure poetry in Kliban's Whack Your Porcupine, or perhaps, Never Eat Anything Bigger than Your Head and Other Drawings.  I'll check the reference when I get home.

I read those two lines more than thirty years ago, and felt a need to share them with you today.  Consider it my contribution to National Poetry Month.

EDIT: My memory is pretty good, but not perfect.  The lines are indeed found in Whack Your Porcupine (1977, Workman Publishing).  But I forgot the caps and the exclamation points and the spelling error -

THERE GOES THAT ROTTEN HALLEY'S COMET!
IT MAKES ME SICK!  I WANT TO VOMET!

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