NIGHT BASEBALL
Halo of light.
Small figures,
Moving mundane ritual.
Crickets chirrup.
Bats c r r a c k!
Gene pools encounter
In self predatory embrace
Of pedagogue time’s
Geologically
Choreographed cascade
Of tumult tormented evolutes
Chained
In perpetual awakening
To combat and
Death.
April 27, 1991
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The voice of the void: “Alive, I can’t die; Dead, I can’t be born.”
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