Bob Thomas/Sam White

Here is a poem I published in Cold Eye years ago. It will be included in the Cold Eye anthology I have recently started to assemble, after some procrastination, never mind the distraction of the Internet radio business.

Sometimes I merely sit in one place and dream of greatness rather than attempting it. Heh!

Sam White is the pen name of Bob Thomas, whom I've written about in my recently published memoir, A Marvelous Paranoia. Bob lives in Ashland, Oregon, where we met at Southern Oregon College in 1969.

A great Dodgers fan, Sam White integrates baseball and his love of poetry into a fine comparison of two difficult tasks--writing well and bunting.

Untitled

green

dark green

almost blue

grass by

a dried

riverbed

LORCA

RIMBAUD

WHITMAN

SPICER

walked each

side

the middle of

the cracked bed

the cracked bed

the poet

leaves his words

visions to

flow

Lorca drew his sword

Rimbaud drew his sword

Whitman drew his sword

Spicer drew his bat

hit the cycle

and his last time

up

laid down

poetry's perfect bunt

resting on the

the thirdbase chalk line

motionless

real______________O___

Sam White

TS