Tiger

A hard drive through the yard:
the Titleist bounces before entering
a pit—where it all begins:
the scratch, the tip, the lift—
bouncing off dirt walls.
Sand traps are easy, and fun,
a day at the beach with no sea,
just a kind enclosure of grain.
Again, on the grass, the ball,
hopping over dandelions,
caught in crabgrass.
A rough and tumble course,
hard enough for college,
hard enough to give up marriage
and pursue a life of lust.
The skill, the unsurpassable
effort to master the course,
success at the top of the class,
irresistible blend of Thai and Black,
the women love him, the thin
tan duke, walking over the hills
in the pastoral distance.

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About mindsonsong

I am Gordon Marshall, from the winding streets of Boston's North End. I like music--from '60s hard bop, to Nigerian psychedelic. It infuses my poetry, of which I have published ten volumes--which in turn informs my critical practice as a jazz writer, currently for AllAboutJazz.com, All About Jazz-New York--and this very site! I would love to hear from all lovers of music, poetry and philosophy.
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