He was drafted
a hot prospect
by the Giants in ‘67
infantryman
by the Army in ‘68
Somewhere north
of the Mekong Delta
pitching for Charlie Company
My Lai
with the bases loaded
he blew out his
mind.
Today
no dugouts or bullpens
in this ward of word slobber
He stands bent
starring home
through Eastwood eyes
waiting for a sign.
Dust dancing
in the sunlight
like confetti
from the world series
December 11, 2007 at 11:57 pm
The last line is really wonderful. Love the imagery. The whole poem is engrossing and draws you into the plight of that man.
December 14, 2007 at 1:11 am
Thanks for stopping by and the kind words.