The fact there are so many good poems
about baseball is just further proof
that A) nobody cares about poetry
and B) they care even less about your poetry.
“The Rules of baseball Buzzed by like a fly
as Nobody Went to bat for Bizarro Jesus”
wrote an Amherst, Massachusetts author
still thinking she might be published one day.
The Amherst Arrows didn’t last too long,
Though many made sour pork in aspic
for Amherst Arrow picnics they still left
and became the Washington Red Sox.
“The Left field stood a Simple monument
to Death” she wrote in a letter that Ford Frick
used to light a cigar. “All love Puff,
a Simpleton’s psalm and No better Still.”