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Phillies Prospect Roundup, July 6: Vice a verse-a (part 1 of 2)

While PhillyFriar is off doin' some serious book-learnin', I offered to take over for him for a coupla weeks, but only on the condition that I can start off in verse. So PF sent me the names, and I thumbed through my dog-eared copy of Great American Baseball Doggerel. The results follow.

Don't worry, you purists; P. Friar will be back soon. If you don't like what I do, rest assured that upon his return, he will have the ability to both sue me and represent himself. I lead off with six this morning; the other four later in the day.

Domonic Brown

Two thousand years from now
consider the religion of a savior, who -
in his most desperate hour - sized up his acolytes in Gethsemane
cast his tearful eyes skyward, and wrote
in the dirt.

Harold Garcia

There is nothing back there for him but an oily strongman, and
ahead, a town of decay and powerless outlets. So he just hits.
And in the process, forgets -  Moviel. Villareal. Fiers - all of them
fading stencils on his fuselage.

A man named Poe rapped on my door
one black night, gripped my arm
and stayed a while.

He sits here still, gloomily writing my future, a pall,
thumping beneath floorboards.
50 wins. So many reasons to celebrate
I lose count. To hell with the journey;
I like to arrive.

Michael Schwimer

Tall guys scare off the stickup men, 
the penny-ante thieves, and make malingerers uncomfortable.
They crane their necks to look in curved mirrors for five-fingered discounters. 

Solid, reliable kids, with some smarts too,
the ones who can close nights, you can trust with the receipts, boys like these
show up every night, allow you to sleep, don't rip you off.

Eric Pettis

Time is nothing
when your past looks like your future;
seasons get stolen, time tables get turned; you're liable
to depart so often that you keep arriving;
and the gift is your present.