Yet, while absorbing,
the movie is troublesome,
lesser than Begins.
The former – patient,
its arc elegant. This? A
relentless straight line.
Sick sick sick movies.
Eat some people, fuck the dead.
It’s time for haiku!
Are you Ravenous?
Do you see the potency
That human meat gives?
Guy Pearce, his cheekbones,
Gold-rush cannibalism –
What’s there not to like?
I have no problem
choosing films of morbid love
from our Netflix queue.
To slake your thirst for Culture Snob poetry, as well as the interactive, I have crafted multiple options for haiku based on Lynne Stopkewich’s 1996 movie Kissed. If you’ve never seen it or heard of it, I think you’ll get the gist pretty quickly.
In response to a call for movie-related haiku, I submitted the following on Robert Altman’s The Player: “The pitch, in 10 words:
Griffin Mill kills the writer,
and he steals his girl.”
At the request of my wife – who is irritated that Red Sox Haiku isn’t updated more frequently – I offer this poetry gem, written in crayon by us over beer one night.
