"In football they measure forty-yard sprints. Nobody runs forty yards in basketball. Maybe you run the ninety-four feet of the court; then you stop, not on a dime, but on Miss Liberty's torch. In football you run over somebody's face."
Donald Hall (b. 1928), U.S. poet, essayist. "Basketball: The Purest Sport of Bodies," Fathers Playing Catch with Sons: Essays on Sport, North Point Press (1985). |
"Sweet death, small son, our instrument
Of immortality,
Your cries and hungers document
Our bodily decay."
Donald Hall (b. 1928), U.S. poet. My Son, My Executioner (l. 5-8). . .
Contemporary American Poetry. A. Poulin, Jr., ed. (4th ed., 1985) Houghton Mifflin Company. |
|
Free
Poetry E-Book: