StarPoet Newsletter Vol. XIII, No. XXIX

Saturday, 14 July 2012 20:00 Last Updated on Saturday, 14 July 2012 23:26

The StarPoet Newsletter
Vol. XIII, No. XXIX (July 15, 2012 C.E.)

a grand summer day in mid-july. a new puppy in our house since last sunday. Carmen, a shepherd-collie mix, quickly makes herself at home.

scattered thunderstorms
warmth and humidity
flocks take wing
at the approach of our puppy

Lisa Jain Thompson c. 2012 C.E.


the last major storm, like the last earthquake, is more memory than troublesome. poems and baseball rule.

looking around
Look if You Want
Look if you want, But I do not place trophies on my walls, I have never been one who felt the urge To announce my successes to the world, These poems not withstanding, Insubstantial leaves blowing across the grass, Accumulating in small well-tended piles that Go unnoticed in the long rays of the afternoon.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn't work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology. You see, there's no guilt in baseball, and it's never boring... which makes it like sex. There's never been a ballplayer slept with me who didn't have the best year of his career. Making love is like hitting a baseball: you just gotta relax and concentrate. Besides, I'd never sleep with a player hitting under .250... not unless he had a lot of RBIs and was a great glove man up the middle. You see, there's a certain amount of life wisdom I give these boys. I can expand their minds. Sometimes when I've got a ballplayer alone, I'll just read Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman to him, and the guys are so sweet, they always stay and listen. 'Course, a guy'll listen to anything if he thinks it's foreplay. I make them feel confident, and they make me feel safe, and pretty. 'Course, what I give them lasts a lifetime; what they give me lasts 142 games. Sometimes it seems like a bad trade. But bad trades are part of baseball - now who can forget Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas, for God's sake? It's a long season and you gotta trust it. I've tried 'em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball. -- Annie Savoy, Bull Durham, 1988, opening narration

the world is parable
Take These Words
Take these words I have given you, I have broke them from by brain To feed both soul and body: I do not speak to you except in poetry Drawn from my synapse and flesh. The words of the poet come to the poet, The poet proclaims the words of the poet. How shall you taste the starlight If you don't understand my words?
Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

the delay in may
The First Sunday
The first Sunday without Cedar, The kids are coming over for a Much delayed Memorial Day; I certainly hope they can hold it together Because if they don't, we certainly won't And we want the grilled strip steaks To be perfect, even with his ghost Still patrolling the room. — Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

Relax, all right? Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring! Besides that, they're fascist. Throw some ground balls - it's more democratic. -- Crash Davis, Bull Durham, 1988

the long, hot summer
Unrelenting
Ya wake-up, the sky is already stewing And the sun ain't risen worth a damn; The air feels like an Iroquois sweat lodge And the air conditioner barely keeps cool; 'Tis the end of the world, I betcha, Global warming seems to hold a strong hand, Scientists and politicians agree on nothing While the summer just keeps growing hotter; Nature's experiment on the savannah Is not yet a definite keeper, We might become earth's grandest evolution Or slowly melt away come August.
Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

Your shower shoes have fungus on them. You'll never make it to the bigs with fungus on your shower shoes. Think classy, you'll be classy. If you win 20 in the show, you can let the fungus grow back and the press'll think you're colorful. Until you win 20 in the show, however, it means you are a slob. -- Crash Davis, Bull Durham, 1988

the starpoet weathercast
Earth and Sun in Orbit Dance
Heat, headache, nausea and sweat, The horsemen of August Roughshod over May, No idyllic Disney fiction Or Family Network fantasy, Sun and Earth in orbit dance, Raining hellfire on the valley.
Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

Go Nats!
The Fourth of Baseball
Fourth of July and Baseball, In the park or on the television, Barbeque started up on the deck outside, Fireworks tonight all around. Sun and Family, flags and parades, Red, white and blue banners hanging, We're all still here despite the naysayers, One nation, one people and our Republic.
-- Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

Yeah, I was in the show. I was in the show for 21 days once - the 21 greatest days of my life. You know, you never handle your luggage in the show, somebody else carries your bags. It was great. You hit white balls for batting practice, the ballparks are like cathedrals, the hotels all have room service, and the women all have long legs and brains. -- Crash Davis, Bull Durham, 1988

if you didn't know before hand, you must be still asleep
Surprise
Surprise! Surprise! Anderson Cooper is still gay. He came out on a blog to straight people everywhere, The rest of us already knew what our lips didn't speak, Now we can breathe his name outloud in public, No longer finding it necessary to pass knowing glances When Anderson is on the screen. He's just another Good looking queer holding a day job on t.v.
Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

like John Stewart, I have never been a saint in San Joaquin
From There to Back Again
Had I been born in New York City, A New York City girl I'd be, Never having breath in San Francisco Or walked in winter through Big Trees. The Pacific flows through my veins, The northern valley gave me birth, The snow-capped Sierras beckoned me And set me free to wander. Jackson, Angel's Camp, Reno and Carson City, Tahoe, Sonora, Arnold and Yosemite, The Bucket of Blood in Virginia City, Ebbett's Pass and Donner's, They're all as much part of me as Sutter's Fort and the lumber mill Where Marshall found gold in Coloma, I'm California born and bred. I watched the sun rise over the Sierras, Watched it set each day into the Pacific, Mount Shasta beckoned me North in the valley, Diablo called me to the Coast Range. I grew on fresh tomatoes and farmer's corn, Peaches from the trees in my own backyard, Figs from the tree behind my Grandparent's, The crest of a wave breaking at Half Moon Bay. California runs deep within my soul, I cannot scrub her out even if I would try, The valley rhythms and mountain rivers Will hold my heart fast until I die.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. -- Crash Davis, Bull Durham, 1988

looking in the mirror
Never My Intention
If I let you down, It was never my intention; If I wasn't as good As you thought I should be, My only defense is I'm imperfect And that following a straight Takes more than a major effort, Even when I certainly planned to When I got out of bed this morning, I admit to being a handful at times, Seemingly unable to perform simple tasks That others might do in seconds every day; But it's never that I won't, It just doesn't necessarily cross my mind That I should be doing something other Than what it is I am doing. It's a failing, I know, a flaw I admit, And one I struggle to correct with little More than a fifty percent record of success.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)

the first time
When I First Met Cedar When I first met Cedar He was the junior partner in a brace, Aggie was the definite alpha bitch And Cedar was the young'un learning his trade As a responsible border collie And almost full grown. Aggie approved of me, Cedar soon followed, And Sharon, of course, was already there; But if Aggie had said no, if Cedar had alerted, All bets would have been off and I would not Have shared a decade so far with Sharon.
— Lisa Jain Thompson (July 2012)
The world is made for people who aren't cursed with self awareness. -- Annie Savoy Davis, Bull Durham, 1988


Copyright © Lisa Jain Thompson 1948-2012. Back issues are in the Newsletter Section of the StarPoet website. Visit my contact page and get in touch.