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.