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The Celebrity Report: Haiku

by John Rodat on November 13, 2013


His kimono flows.

David Bowie loves ping pong.

Iman won’t play him.


The chips and snacks aisle:

A roadie buys Funyons.

Lady Gaga smiles.


No, Donald Glover

is not the child of Danny.

Nor Corey’s either.


Tom Hanks hates the mail.

So many flyers for Kohl’s.

What a waste, you know?


Kim Kardashian:

Between photo shoots, she sighs,

“Alexander wept . . . “


“Whizz” or “Badger”? No.

Cher thinks these are lousy names

for restaurant investments.


Chuck D. can’t decide:

What are the specials, today?

No, veal is nasty.


Joaquin Phoenix shaves.

“Stupid, stupid,” he mutters.

He just can’t let go.


“That shit’s so funny!”

Chris Rock tells his wife, again.

But she thinks ALF sucks.


“Blockbuster has closed?”

Stephen Spielberg says aloud.

“Huh.” But no one’s there.


Amy Sedaris.

Stores ingredients by weight.

No one can say why.


Charlie Sheen, you brat.

We know you’re an Estevez!

Why can’t you behave?


“Kanye,” thinks Kanye.

But then he reconsiders:

Kanye thinks, “Kanye.”


Adam Sandler sleeps.

His dreams are dark and troubled:

“Am I still famous?!”


“My Lai,” Denzel shouts.

This is his true element:

Trivial Pursuit.


Benedict Cumber . . .
batch. Won’t fit this ancient form,

Not unless you cheat.


“That,” Tilda Swinton

pronounces, “Is how to skin

a cat the RIGHT way.”


“Lars von Trier was here.”

The graffiti has not dried.

It streaks the school wall.


Smile, Andy Richter.

No one knows your game, no one.

You can bide your time.


Ron Howard still has

the bones of the barber, Floyd.

But he’s lost Aunt Bea’s.


“Angela Bassett!”

The time traveler gasped, “No.”

Then, “You win—again.”