The Reanimation of Ted Williams’ Frozen Head
It is almost imperceptible — the twinkle of ice rime thawing
in an interior steel room filled with exaggerated gases,
near a regal super-neuro-unificator machine.
Everything is silent but for a discontinuous tinkling,
which means the enfolding of the field begins,
which is a prognostication of the heft of the bat,
which means science is in the catbird seat,
conquering the poke and stir of ashes,
so the scientists all incant: whosoever
liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
The super-neuro-unificator goes “ding”
and Ted Williams’ head twitches, and
Ted Williams’ head opens his eyes,
and the scientists all step forward,
and the scientists peer down
like Zeuses. They ask: tell us how
it was, when the air was good,
and tell us about baseball
and green grass Sundays of
left field. Please do
begin.
I haven’t posted a poem/draft here in … forever. So here’s a newish one from last month. My poetic output has been slim for a while, due to not feeling too hot, but I’m starting to feel better. I’m pretty slow and picky during the best of times, anyway. Bishopian, even. (I recently took apart my book manuscript & halved it to chapbook size.)
I keep taking the first stanza of this poem out, putting it back in, taking it out, putting it back in, standing back, squinting, taking it out again, putting it back in again.
Also, I’ve come to the conclusion that I think that ding in quotes:
“ding”
is somehow funnier than ding in italics:
ding
But maybe it is just me, LOL.
ps Ted Williams for non-baseball fans. Also, no news this weekend. And no weekend news for the rest of the summer probably. Have a good weekend.
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