For #8, Gary Edmund Carter

On a rainy day in April we twist and turn into Cooperstown
where I’m interested only in laying hands on one bust.

Kids expect no one in sports to be worth their trust, no one
in the upcoming election, no movie star who won’t someday

soon be caught in a situation fraught with pride and excess,
the kind of temptation offered only to those of endless fame.

I liked the way he held his bat. The way he walked and ran.
The joy with which he met the warm air and the lined dirt field.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s