The Wind Blows in at Wrigley Field
Keye Luke,
you once led an army
defending the heart
of me.
Why are you gone now?
You have left Wrigley Field
to return to the plains
of the Martian western continent
where no rivers run.
Oh Yellow Man of Love,
there are no homers
in today's steady wind.
My heart is an anxious muscle.
I cannot sleep.
The ghosts of last year's exploration
haunt me. And I think of your
sure smile and steady hands,
sifting the red dust
in the spring wind,
a gauze of memory,
remarkable these days.
When the wind blows in at Wrigley Field it is bad for the hitters and good for the pitchers. It means a long, intense game where one team will win by a run or two. When the wind blows out the scoring is legendary. In my life I watched entirely too many cubs baseball games and back in the old days when they were mostly in the afternoon as Wrigley didn't have lights. This poem appeared in the Lindsay centenary Village Magazine, the was organized and published by Sangamon Poets in the fall of 1979.
you once led an army
defending the heart
of me.
Why are you gone now?
You have left Wrigley Field
to return to the plains
of the Martian western continent
where no rivers run.
Oh Yellow Man of Love,
there are no homers
in today's steady wind.
My heart is an anxious muscle.
I cannot sleep.
The ghosts of last year's exploration
haunt me. And I think of your
sure smile and steady hands,
sifting the red dust
in the spring wind,
a gauze of memory,
remarkable these days.
When the wind blows in at Wrigley Field it is bad for the hitters and good for the pitchers. It means a long, intense game where one team will win by a run or two. When the wind blows out the scoring is legendary. In my life I watched entirely too many cubs baseball games and back in the old days when they were mostly in the afternoon as Wrigley didn't have lights. This poem appeared in the Lindsay centenary Village Magazine, the was organized and published by Sangamon Poets in the fall of 1979.
Labels: Keye Luke, the Village Magazine 1979, Vachel Lindsey, Wrigley Field
posted by As Bjorn at 4:50 PM
1 Comments:
I saw a game at Wrigley Field earlier this quarter. The wind was going insane and it started raining halfway through. In true cubbies fashion they lost pretty spectacularly, but it was worth it for the vile weather (if that makes any sense). Where is the Martian western continent where no rivers run? It sounds like Arizona, or some equally depressing state, the ones that are all red when you go up in airplanes. Dammit, man, reading poetry makes me wax rhetorical in my comments! "My heart is an anxious muscle" is a wonderful line.
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