St. Henry's Day


Hobo (the Holey Roamin’ Umpire)
waits on a pitch from Sleepy-Eye
Hank.  It is his day.
Home plate always Big Mother Star-

Fish play (a hide-seek curve ball –
Dad’s Scrambled Hamlet).
Around 9 innings yet.
Black diamond in Elkhart... St. Paul

stole bases off that pokey Cobb
(guess – tie).  The Twins
still mirroring last year’s
lost wins.  The ball can wobble

1132 feet per sec – 33 miles
per the union (1099).
Hank Aaron was my man.
Hit the dead aim toss, all smiles –

black pay-dirt (out of Elkhart minors
graveyard).  Rod bloomed,
the whole world boomed –
from Thunder Winnebago Hen (majors,

truly) into found pro (his Red-Eye Land).
Only a game, anyway.
If somebody tries to say
who started it... sweet Joanny Hand

of Gracie Mansion, twirling down
on Monday morning
(twilight grey).  So swing
on, Homer Hank – de day’s yo own.


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