December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

Death by Basketball by Frank X. Walker

Before and after school
he stood
on a milk crate
eyeballed the mirror
and only saw wayne turner
at tournament time

a third grader
just off the bus
barely four feet
off the ground
he dropped his books
sank a j’
from the top of the key
and heard the crowd roar
beat his man off the dribble
with a break yaneck
crossover
and slammed himself
on the cover of a box
of wheaties

he was out there
every night
under a street light
fighting through double picks
talking trash
to imaginary body checks
‘you can’t hold me fool’
fake right
‘this is my p

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

God morning heartache, you old gloomy sight. Good morning heartache, tho't we said goodbye last night. I tossed and turned until it seemed you had gone, but here you... GOOD MORNING HEARTACHE by Irene Higginbotham.
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