Polished muddy color cement,
Sugar sticky from rivers of black nectar,
Cracked with a well-travelled shine
Dim-lit path to the worship arena:
Baseball
Millions will follow
All types, from all worlds, living in all times.
Murders, artists, kings, smelly bums and children
Creating, as always has been done:
New religion.
Oh that feeling, shimmering from the endless seats,
Dancing in the summer insect air,
A chatter of minds as they sit in purpose,
Purpose beneath the electronic glaring lights,
Lights violating the still, dark American night,
Nights like old Romeo or even Nuremberg:
New empire.
Pick your baseball card heroes of these holy wars,
Sainted archetypes if you will,
Study the statistical scriptures they sell at the gates,
To spread the WORD about those NINE.
Photograph and math omens of apocalyptic Octobers.
Study the men the numbers favor,
Idols for eager boys and smiling girls
All for that one infinite crowd
And the one eternal diamond mind.
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