[Each of these haiku is composed solely of the Donald’s own words.]
 
 
Sick geniuses will
break the system. I’m like, Death
Wish, plain and simple.
 
 
♢
 
 
I can let people
know they were a fraud.
You have a voice.
 
 
♢
 
 
There’d be a major
collapse in television.
I’m not a masochist.
 
 
♢
 
 
I make $400
million a year, so what
difference does it make?
 
 
♢
 
 
A lot of programs
are 100 percent Trump.
Who needs commercials?
 
 
♢
 
 
Our country must be
glamorized. No, presidents
don’t carry luggage.
 
 
 
Lance Newman’s poems have appeared in print and web magazines published in Australia, Canada, the U.K., and the U.S., including 1913, BlazeVox, Fringe, Moria, No Tell Motel, nthposition, otoliths, Pemmican, Perigee, Stride, West Wind Review, and Zyzzyva. His two chapbooks, Come Kanab (Dusi-e/chaps Kollectiv, 2007) and 3by3by3 (Beard of Bees, 2010), are freely available on the web. He also curates the blogzine 3by3by3, a poetic experiment in human/machine collaboration.