I Had Been Keeping An Off Eye

I Remember The Chillicothe Ballplayers Grappling The Long Island Ball Players In A Sixteen-inning Game Ended By Darkness. And The Shoulders Of The Chillicothe Players Were A Red Smoke Against The Sundown And The Shoulders Of The Rock Island Players Were A Yellow Smoke Against The Sundown. And The Umpire's Voice Was Hoarse Calling Balls And Strikes And Outs And The Umpire's Throat Fought In The Dust For A Song.

The Shovel Is The Brother To The Gun.

God, Let Me Remember All Good Losers.

Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How Rainbows Are Made And Why They Go Away.

Calling It Off Comes Easy Enough If You Haven't Told The Girl You Are Smitten With Her.