Daily haiku

assiduousness
is perforce its own reward
for fans of “Cop Rock”

a ranting hobo
logorrheic by nature
yearned for a hatchet

your Pulitzer Prize
is less appealing than your
craps table panache

the wedding was stopped
when Fido redivivus
devoured the bridegroom

the neighbors dislike
Warren’s proclivity for
bathing alfresco

crucial trade secrets
can’t be wheedled out of me
but I’ll accept cash

we have not seen Frank
since he sent that billet-doux
to the president

woebegone widow
Ethel’s lassitude belies
her speed addiction

he cannot sit through
this soporific movie
devoid of bare breasts

since you are vegan
I have prepared this repast
of shredded newsprint

Trans Am headlights pierce
the thick crepuscular mist
questing for tube tops

The Beatles entered
resulting in a maelstrom
since two are corpses

milkshake subterfuge
the one surefire way to get
B.A. on a plane

now concealed beneath
the lambent waves of the lake
Charles waited for dawn

still rubicund from
Monday’s codpiece incident
Jill stayed home last night

the children all loved
his prestidigitation
but his teeth scared them

from under my bed
a kobold snarled in contempt
at my taste in shoes

your renowned aplomb
couldn’t fend off syphilis
could it, Mr. Bond?

spiked punch, icy stare
with a puissant uppercut
the prom was over

your laudable goal
of keeping the dolphins safe
makes my stomach growl

though she was backlit
in a warm oneiric haze
we still opened fire

when presented with
a large, exquisite nosegay
Hercules disrobed

petrified mangos
though not propitious for juice
can be thrown at cops

her delicate skin
dappled by the disco ball
hides its jaundice well

the stringent mores
of my son’s little league team
reject Calvinism

the Corvette peeled out
its subfusc interior
held gallons of Tab

our vacation’s dawn
the alpenglow reminds us
we left the stove on

by the tenth inning
I began to consider
self-immolation

a malediction
placed on the state of Texas:
vegetarians!

dad sighed mawkishly
“my little girl has grown up”
he shook the pimp’s hand

seeing G.I. Jane
emboldened this virago
to stab Ridley Scott

his hair was perfect
but it was widely bruited
that his skin was fake

those silly surgeons
if they were less loquacious
I’d still be alive

“shower-fresh feeling”
never did quite find a home
in his lexicon

go sound the tocsin
our son has escaped his crib
with a taste for blood

the collection plate
fills the bellies of the poor
and keeps me in pelf

his father-in-law
a basketball votary
owns many tube socks

when Jack the Ripper
was described as aberrant
his feelings were hurt

we’ll just set him up
with some kind of sinecure
since he has no legs

the neighborhood watch
keeps this conurbation safe
from flesh-eating slugs

his final moments
were smothered under a pile
of gift shop gewgaws

the crowd’s gaze was fixed
the drama was palpable
fur would fly tonight

laconic response
to a bouquet of roses:
“I’m calling the cops.”

they dread the onus
of college graduation?
oh, they’re art students

the resplendence of
nature is sempiternal
and so is Ric Flair

you strangled my wife
I will not forget this act
of beneficence

this inchoate cast
will bear the likeness of Christ
once I get some yarn

effulgent sports cars
the essence of every film
starring Corey Haim

no segue needed
between discussions of oil
and killing the poor

back from the meeting
Ned’s jocund grin assured us
our moonshine would sell