Well, we now have a few teams for the league and we'll play our first game soon.
   
  I won't give a play by play here...but if anyone here is willing to play let me know
   
  So far we have three teams.
   
  The Canuck Knuckleballers

Al "Heat" Purdy
Earle "The Pearl" Birney
Leonard "Slowhand" Cohen
Irv "The Curve" Layton
Larry "In Your Face" Ferlinghetti 
   
  My team
   
  the St. Paul Gamboliers

Robert Bly
Carl Sandburg
Tom McGrath
William Stafford
Bob Dylan

   
  And the 
   
  Atlanta BlackBallers:

Langston Hughes
Robert Hayden
Maya Angelou
Etheridge Knight
Countee Cullen

   
  Rumor has it that Maya may be cut.
   
  I'll take notes on the first game and give a play by play.
   
  Ok, I have Bob Dylan...so I'm willing to let any team I compete against have a sixth player.
   
  Ken,
   
  You could field a team just from NYC.


MC Ward <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
  Joe, this is brilliant--and often hilarious. It's a
keeper, for sure.

Candice



--- joe green wrote:

> 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 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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