Poetry in Motion: Twelve Basketball Haiku


Phil Jackson: Knicks bound.
The Zen Master, soon tested
by L train delays.

Tim Duncan’s knees ain’t
yet turned to sand. Texans rejoice,
chug barbeque sauce.

What I would not give
to be one of the Final Four
husbands of Kesha.

My bracket’s busted.
Jared Leto beat Baylor.
McConaughey weeps.

Steve Nash web series.
Beach yoga montage implies
graceful aging, right?

How does Slate do it?
Their staff can make even sports
shrill, glum, and snooty.

We prefer soccer.
Foreign TV feels less like

Lil B, Durant feud.
Greg Odin, Akon share soup
and jigsaw puzzle.

“Joakim Noah’s No
Joke”, reads New York Post headline.
A quail shrugs, bemused.

Finding women’s sports
news? Needle in haystack,
surrounded by mules.

Grantland podcasters.
Sports talk radio hosts, but
with fewer goatees.

Is Blake Griffin soft?
Nay. Gentle giant. Stealth wins.
Stay sleepy, dreamer.

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