Suppose, at the Little Big Horn, Custers cavalry had been armed with nuclear weapons. Just imagine how different the course of men in the street, the Enola Gay pilot, Jose Canseco, who at first denied using steroids or other performance enhancing substances. Entire villages destroyed, millions dead, Sitting Bull bulked up like a prize steer at a Montana cattle auction. Babe Ruth didnt use steroids to establish his home run records. Hank Aaron never used nuclear weapons. Unfortunately, the same cant be said for Harry Truman, the first American president who didnt use steroids but did use the atomic bomb. Who wouldnt like to go drinking with Josef Stalin, infamous for murdering millions and those memorable words: The Pope? how many home runs has he hit? Following the 1994 strike, team owners tried to restore fan interest by shrinking the strike zone, by incinerating Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and by conducting the seventh inning stretch in High Church Latin. Robert Oppenheimer, Rocket Roger Clemens, Albert Einstein, Barry Bonds. Can you guess which of these men injected human growth hormones and which denied all knowledge and responsibility? Fans are jaded, immune to moralistic bromides, bored by literalism, by beginning, middle and end narratives. Nobody was surprised when owners diverted responsibility to trainers, clubhouse attendants and then the Japanese Imperial Military. Critics called it a collective failure. Two defenseless cities totally obliterated, a see-no-evil commissioner slow to react, Americas finest cavalry troop dead on the ground. Others called it a senseless war crime. Boom goes London. Boom Paree. Three MVPs under a cloud of suspicion. And so the poet is forced to collage together a set of image fragments, floating fractured percepts along a line of enjambed syntax. Astrological signs. Book of the Dead. Coming apart. Caving in. Whos been pissing in my umbrella stand? Tokyo, Thursday, 12/20/07