9 Bad Boys is a damn fine poem.
Beethoven should bat Fifth though. Da da da Dum plays on the organ when he steps up to the plate.
But it is damned hard coming up with a roster for a Poetry baseball team. This is probably why there are no fantasy Poetry Baseball Leagues. For example, as I pointed out, Keats is pretty athletic, major poet, good team player but he has TB. Hart Crane -- a definite starter but then he’ll kill himself. Yeats -- won’t talk to the other players. Won’t accept coaching. Eliot and Pound -- won’t play on the same team as Ginsberg.
Ginsberg will play with them though. Doesn’t give a damn -- forgives the bastards their Anti-Semitism…but let’s face it… Allen…well what kind of a shortstop would he be? Great with the chatter but higher than God most of the time.
Which leaves Tennyson. Known for his feats of strength. Good team player. Great hitter, I think. Ok. We have one. Catcher.
Wallace Stevens -- in shape, used to walk all over the place. Fans dig the Blue Guitar stuff. First base.
Wordsworth -- the man is in shape, walking tours of the Alps and so on. Always making the best of a bad situation and we can anticipate the one problem we might have by giving his sister a job in Publicity. Second base.
Anonymous -- shortstop. The best utility player ever.
Shakespeare -- we can’t afford him. Forget about it.
Chaucer -- extrovert but might be inclined to be solitary when no-one can understand him. Still, I want him at third base.
Byron -- right field. Yeah, he’s gimpy but who hits to right field? Great party guy. A lot of fun on the bus.
I want Walt Whitman at center field. When he’s alert -- nobody can keep up. So, some games he’s on the grass blathering on and on. That’s just how it is. Popular with the fans and I like to think of Walt and Byron at the bar of a little hotel in St. Louis.
Left field -- I’m going with Dylan Thomas. Simply put, I want to be on the bus with him.
Pitchers…I’ll have to think about it.
Carl Sandberg will be third base coach. I want him and his banjo on the bus.
Ok, I want to reserve the following as pitchers:
John Donne (imagine his curve ball -- metaphysical!)
William Blake (obvious)
Thomas Hardy (I say he has the best fastball of any prospects).
I’m willing to trade. Make some offers.
kasper salonen <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
excellent stuff Joe, I saw the play-by-play before my very eyes.
couldn't help but be reminded of the following.:
9 BAD BOYS
Céline will bat
lead-off,
Shostakovich is in the
second
spot,
Dostoevsky should hit
3rd,
Beethoven will definitely bat
clean-up,
Jeffers is in the 5th
spot,
Dreiser can hit
6th
and batting 7th
let's have
Boccaccio
and 8th the
catcher:
Hemingway.
the pitcher?
hell, give me the
fucking
ball
CB
KS
On 04/03/07, joe green wrote:
> Yes, here's a poem of mine that combines literature and baseball.
>
> Literary Baseball
>
> Who's at bat? Why it looks like Old Bill Yeats.
> Pope's on the Mound. The pitch is wide and low.
> Yeat's spits. The pitch. A hit. Get it Johnny Keats!
> A long legged fly. Keats is too damn slow.
> He coughs. He falls! Look it's Wallace Stevens!
> Way back! He'll have to catch it off the wall.
> Shelley scores! By God the score is even!
> Yeats stops at third. A fact which doth appall
> Bobby Frost. Who strides quickly to the mound.
> Pope's out. Pound's in. No it's Christy Marlowe!
> (The Bard's retired.) But then there is a sound
> As the crowd cries out in rage and sorrow,
> Makes for their cars. The Greeks would call it Fate.
>
> What can be done when Homer's at the plate?
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