Poetry Friday, The Galilee Hitch-Hiker, Part 7

A Baseball Game

Baudelaire went
to a baseball game
and bought a hot dog
and lit up a pipe
of opium.
The New York Yankees
were playing
the Detroit Tigers.
In the fourth inning
an angel committed
suicide by jumping
off a low cloud.
The angel landed
on second base,
causing the
whole infield
to crack like
a huge mirror.
The game was
called on
account of
fear.

Wow. "The game was called on account of fear." It feels like that happens a lot.

I still think I am dreaming in Brautiganese. Smoking cigarettes with Johnny Depp, doing coke with Dennis Hopper--it's all of a piece. Depp and Hopper, at least in image, are my rockstar poet-philosophers. If I could generate an image of Baudelaire, I am certain I would dream-smoke opium with him.

Two of my real rockstar friends and favorite bassists of yore, Feste and Demetrius, are reuniting for few shows this weekend. I will see them tonight at my favorite pub and I might even wander down to see them play in one of my favorite towns on the planet tomorrow night. Music! Friends! What a nice dark days of winter treat.