Elysian Fields Quarterly - The Baseball Review

Worm-gripers gloss heaven,
Spitting starjuice over their jibs,
Scorching old moon with enthrall.
Steep now the safe-conducts
Hardly passable,
As we plot pliskies and plod. My job

Now to swallow sherd, drown sea-gods and
Other malingerers with acid sweet head.
Hark! All you resplendent haunts!
Shove the haw into your lurch,
You motherprobate!
Telpherage is the order of the day. Had

I more wit to bewilder, I'd say: bevel off,
Filbert-tooth. Eat my saccharin,
Fossil out your rotation with dread.
The Antipodes are your natural state,
and here everyone the same.
No one here hero; no one heroine,

Except those who housel profanity, so human,
So dear to our Lord. Amen.

—EFQ

Humor and poetry by LOUIS PHILLIPS has appeared in The Minneapolis Review of Baseball, Elysian Fields Quarterly, National Lampoon, The Village Voice, San Francisco Chronicle, Christian Science Monitor, and many other publications.

© 2002 Louis Phillips