Journal

National Poetry Month April 5

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.

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