Game 4 (poem)

Wet Luzinski — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 04:55:19 -0000

This is in reply to dajafi's poem about tonight's epic game. It is a short poem so this sentence only serves to get me over the 75-word limit. There.

Game 4

Santa Ana winds

swirling above Chavez Ravine

rendered to embers

the familiar scripted houses

of mass-broadcast, supposed-to-be fame.

When it all burned clean

Left standing was the bearded guy

Substantial; well traveled

Coining the new currency

of fame. Redemption.

Honest earning. Of hard luck turned.

The ball carried deep to right. In this new America

It has yet to land.

SB Nation User Blog: Wet Luzinski