After all is said, of course, what will remain of George Welsh? Welsh himself has nothing to say about the subject, preferring to leave the self-eulogizing to poets like Whitman, whom he once called a “boob” and on another occasion a “nelly.” Welsh would rather play any day. His love for the twin games of football and life buoy his work in such poems as the formalist ”Pork Products Transcend”:
Pork Products Transcend
It’s fourth and ten, boys,
Florida State…. You gonna
eat that ’wurst, Frank? Damn.