Every once in awhile the fellas wax poetic in their favorite form, the haiku.  Enjoy!

Thursday night... the X.
Pilot Knob all to ourselves.
Sweet, sweet wiffle love.
-- Truck, Mets
w*****ball spinning
turbulent air makes me bend
bang the board i shall
-- Hal, Yankees
The X are awesome
Two-Thousand-eleven CHAMPS
God bless plastic balls
-- J-Ski, Xpos

Barren is my world
Like cold, moist, grassless rink fields
Wiffles; I miss ewe
-- Joe, Our beloved former Vice Commish
Sweet signs of April!
Long live Truck’s magnum opus
Happy eighth year, boys!
-- Joe, one more time
Joey law is back! 
I told you the wiffle gods
are smiling on us
-- Madman, Xpos

Joe Zone appearance
Sixty degrees out right now
Summer is coming
-- Pork Buoy, White Sox
Indians Re-Tool
TBag and Siebs clean up drool
Take these N00Bs to school
-- Bork, Indians
Pilots scrimmage Braves
Cold sunday, Large Rink, Where's Jost?
Dee is not injured
-- Box, Pilots

Orioles are the best
The Phillies are crap
Where is my hat
It's over there
-- J.R., Orioles
Sunday at Sky Hill
Kids cowering in the shade
Cross us. We cut you
In solidarity, my brothers
-- Cheezy, Phillies
Grab bag booze season
Mono jams echo through the rink
Time to pick up glass
-- Cheezy, Phillies

Posted in: HRL

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Wall Street
# Wall Street
Friday, April 29, 2011 5:02 PM
"Mono jams echo through the rink" has eight syllables.

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