Here's a new poem I've been working on. I think it's ready to come out an play as it were. It's probably still developing but sometimes you have to write it down and put it out there to see what it might need.
Baseball Radio
Baseball radio
skipping across the thick summer night sky
transistor voices
painting soundscapes in dreams
gathering in a plastic dream catchers with antennas reaching to the stars
There is a static and crackle, the sound of the air itself
that fills the beautiful moments in between
the pause between pitches
when the patterns of voices and noises weave together in a blanket of sound
the bat crack,
the glove smack,
the long ball crowd roar
a tapestry of sound rising and falling like waves on the sea.
And in that aural landscape
in the slow, spacious story telling
memories, like fossils revealed breathe the summer air and live again.
Somewhere Willie is stalking the fly ball from the bat of Vic Wertz,
and somewhere Roberto is firing a cannon shot from right field to nail an
over-confident runner on the way to second,
somewhere Babe is still on deck and the game is still within our grasp
and autumn and winter are a million miles away.