Revision! "The apparition of these faces in the crowd / Cardinal homers off a wet, black bat" (Ezra Poundish).
and now to Stevens's "13 Ways"; find the original here.
It was an evening game this afternoon/It was humid/And it was going to be humid./The Cardinal sat/On the happy flight.
The ball is heading out/Mr. Pujols must be up.
He rode over Busch/In a big blimp./Once a fear pierced him/In that he mistook/The shadow of Bud Lite/for Cardinals.
At the sight of Cardinals/Flying at dusk,/Even the braves of Atlanta/Would fly out softly.
When the Cardinal flew out of sight,/It marked the edge/Of one of many base paths.
I know midwest accents/And lucid, inescapable runs;/But I know, too,/That the Cardinal is involved/In what I know.
O thin men of Atlanta,/Why do you imagine otherwise?/Do you not see how the Cardinals/Take intentional walks/And score?
I do not know which to prefer, /The beauty of sacrifices/Or the beauty of inside the park homeruns/The Cardinal...
A man and a woman/Are on first./A man and a woman and a Cardinal/are on first.
The cardinal whirled in left field / It was a small part of the ballgame.
I was of three minds/Like a tree/In which there were three cardinals.
Among twenty snowy mountains, / the only moving thing / was the eye of the cardinal.
That Torty knows something--how much, I do not know--about poetry shows up in his latest tweet:
Yesterday was one of the great baseball days ever. Let's hope it keeps up. I sure want to see more Torty tweets! He knocks me off my path of detachment, but one hopes only until the end of October.