The Giants Are A Love Poem
“What do you love, what the fuck do you love”
do you love, you must love wine
do you love fucking you love wine
fucking love doesn’t mean you look for it
it can’t happen when you expect to find
love you watch baseball games your whole life
though you stay within yourself and love
to fucking root for the Giants
you love heat and an even plane
you want to impress you want to love
and make yourself feel good and baseball
can do that if you get aboard watching
starting over again kicking around love
and service time and running around Stetson University
making hats but running the bases in the heat
and the guy on deck has lost someone just like you
and his fastball will let you know that he’s going to drop down
in love a nice inning heading to the 9th on March 20th
looking for someone to share his love for his love
and available for a time with baseball scouting
his love in the dugout breaks low
and this club is a division of their own
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2 comments:
john, is this flarf?
and is "i'm a spartan" also flarf?
or, excuse me, "google-sculpted poetry".
no, this one is a quick chardonnay poem i wrote last night during the bottom of the fourth inning of the giants/ a's game...i found myself saying out loud "what do you love, what the fuck do you love" which i thought was both funny and weird, so that became the starting off point for the poem and then it just sort of poured out...
wine-drunk and hyper.
i'm a spartan isn't google-sculpted either...it started out small, sort of a joke, and then i just kept going...and now i'm thinking that it may be part of my new dusie chap, or that it might be part of a children's book that lauren k. and i are going to do...
but, yeah, 2 poems in two days, i feel great...
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