Poems begining by D
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Dream Song 109: She mentioned 'worthless' & he took it in
© John Berryman
She mentioned 'worthless' & he took it in,
degraded Henry, at the ebb of loveâ
O at the end of loveâ
in undershorts, with visitors, whereof
we can say their childlessness is ending. Love
finally took over,
Dream Song 67: I don't operate often. When I do
© John Berryman
I don't operate often. When I do,
persons take note.
Nurses look amazed. They pale.
The patient is brought back to life, or so.
The reason I don't do this more (I quote)
is: I have a living to failâ
Dream Song 37: Three around the Old Gentleman
© John Berryman
His malice was a pimple down his good
big face, with its sly eyes. I must be sorry
Mr Frost has left:
I like it so less I don't understoodâ
he couldn't hear or see wellâall we siftâ
but this is a bad story.
Dream Song 107: Three 'coons come at his garbage. He be cross
© John Berryman
Three 'coons come at his garbage. He be cross,
I figuring porcupine & took Sir poker
unbarring Mr door,
& then screen door. Ah, but the little 'coon,
hardly a foot (not counting tail) got in with
two more at the porch-edge
Dream Song 124: Behold I bring you tidings of great joy
© John Berryman
Behold I bring you tidings of great joyâ
especially now that the snow & gale are stillâ
for Henry is delivered.
Not only is he delivered from the gale
but he has a little one. He's out of jail
also. It is a boy.
Dream Song 15: Let us suppose, valleys & such ago
© John Berryman
Let us suppose, valleys & such ago,
one pal unwinding from his labours in
one bar of Chicago
and this did actually happen. This was so.
And many graces are slipped, & many a sin
even that laid man low
Dream Song 66: 'All virtues enter into this world:')
© John Berryman
'All virtues enter into this world:')
A Buddhist, doused in the street, serenely burned.
The Secretary of State for War,
winking it over, screwed a redhaired whore.
Monsignor Capovilla mourned. What a week.
A journalism doggy took a leak
Dream Song 25: Henry, edged, decidedly, made up stories
© John Berryman
Henry, edged, decidedly, made up stories
lighting the past of Henry, of his glorious
present, and his hoaries,
all the bight heals he tampedâ âEuphoria,
Mr Bones, euphoria. Fate clobber all.
âHand me back my crawl,
Dream Song 18: A Strut for Roethke
© John Berryman
Westward, hit a low note, for a roarer lost
across the Sound but north from Bremerton,
hit a way down note.
And never cadenza again of flowers, or cost.
Him who could really do that cleared his throat
& staggered on.
Dream Song 125: Bards freezing, naked, up to the neck in water
© John Berryman
Bards freezing, naked, up to the neck in water,
wholly in dark, time limited, different from
initiations now:
the class in writing, clothed & dry & light,
unlimited time, till Poetry takes some,
nobody reads them though,
Dream Song 19: Here, whence
© John Berryman
Here, whence
all have departed orwill do, here airless, where
that witchy ball
wanted, fought toward, dreamed of, all a green living
drops limply into one's hands
without pleasure or interest
Dream Song 113: or Amy Vladeck or Riva Freifeld
© John Berryman
That isna Henry limping. That's a hobble
clapped on mere Henry by the most high GOD
for the freedom of Henry's soul.
âThe body's foul, cried god, once, twice, & bound itâ
For many years I hid it from him successfullyâ
I'm not clear how he found it
Dream Song 9: Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstill
© John Berryman
Deprived of his enemy, shrugged to a standstill
horrible Henry, foaming. Fan their way
toward him who will
in the high wood: the officers, their rest,
with p. a. echoing: his girl comes, say,
conned in to test
Dream Song 135: I heard said 'Cats that walk by their wild lone'
© John Berryman
I heard said 'Cats that walk by their wild lone'
but Henry had need of friends. They disappeared
Shall I follow my dream?
Clothes disappeared in a backward sliding, zones
shot into view, pocked, exact & weird:
who is what he seem?
Dream Song 30: Collating bones: I would have liked to do
© John Berryman
Collating bones: I would have liked to do.
Henry would have been hot at that.
I missed his profession.
As a little boy I always thought
'I'm an archeologist'; who
could be more respected peaceful serious than that?
Dream Song 41: If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert)
© John Berryman
If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert)
while snows flies, chill, after so frequent knew
so many all nothing,
for lead & fire, it's not we would assert
particulars, but animal; cats mew,
horses scream, man sing.
Dream Song 119: Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York
© John Berryman
Fresh-shaven, past months & a picture in New York
of Beard Two, I did have Three took off. Well. .
Shadow & act, shadow & act,
Better get white or you' get whacked,
or keep so-called black
& raise new hell.
Dream Song 63: Bats have no bankers and they do not drink
© John Berryman
Bats have no bankers and they do not drink
and cannot be arrested and pay no tax
and, in general, bats have it made.
Henry for joining the human race is bats,
known to be so, by few them who think,
out of the cave.
Dream Song 53: He lay in the middle of the world, and twicht
© John Berryman
He lay in the middle of the world, and twicht.
More Sparine for Pelides,
human (half) & down here as he is,
with probably insulting mail to open
and certainly unworthy words to hear
and his unforgiving memory.
Dream Song 34: My mother has your shotgun. One man, wide
© John Berryman
My mother has your shotgun. One man, wide
in the mind, and tendoned like a grizzly, pried
to his trigger-digit, pal.
He should not have done that, but, I guess,
he didn't feel the best, Sister,âfelt less
and more about less than us . . . ?
