Thursday, December 1, 2011

3338. CAST OF COLORFUL CHARACTERS

CAST OF COLORFUL 
CHARACTERS
Like the Oakland A's of '72, handlebar moustaches,
Rollie Fingers, and all the rest of that perturbed
malarkey running on, I too stood on a mound
and threw: fastballs to the face, and a broken head
from where the bat hit me square. There were
people in the stands, screaming, I swear,
obscenities at me. What could I
do? It all had to be.
-
I was borne by my mother's hand, thrown out
to this foreign land  -  and now, only the same
various uglies yelling, with all their various
vanities vain.  The wedge-shaped writing
at the edge of the cave, it read : 'Abandon
all hope, ye who enter here. No one is saved!'
-
The sacred harp and the river tree, the holy
grove, and all that which places a goodly light
on all the world  -  I note that it remembers
even me, betokens a holy smile, brings forth
a redemption tree (of wood, of branch, by 
which the Son of Man is brought to Death is
brought to Life, that Death should never be).
There should never be such a salubrious
nature as this, and I should be, nodding
 by acquaintance, on great and holy
terms with all things. (for hark! this
Herald Angel sings!).
-
We dance on, living, in
spite of all the fears.

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