Quotes about berryman

O Mighty Beyond the Chimney Yet Under the Bed - One Address To the Lord After Berryman's 'Eleven' Astutter

for Andrew

'I don't try to reconcile anything' said the poet at eighty,
'This is a damned strange world.' - John Berryman*

I beg (as did Berryman as did
also Job) Do not give up on me
drag me (gently) pull me (tug
tenderly) gather me (dew me
softly cover) do not delay
Shepherding (O Numberless One,
Creator of the Majestic Zero
beyond all counting, that I may
be beyond 'the Ninety and the Nine'**
so) woo me (though a cold bed I
am and make, though human hand
pen/paw at Thee O Mighty beyond
the chimney yet under the bed

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Also see the following:

Bare To Such Luscence - A Catfish Mass

.
for John Berryman, his Bones, Confessed

Antiphons:

The original fault
Will not be undone by fire.
The original fault was whether wickedness
Was soluble in art. History says it is,
Jacques Maritain says it is,
Barely.

- John Berryman, from 'Sonnet ix'

Introit then Lauds:

Punctuated surprise,
hosanna of rivers

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

See quotes about catfish, quotes about dogs, quotes about information, quotes about bridges, quotes about Thanksgiving, quotes about flying, or quotes about violence

History Before Was Brunch Ever

For Workers everywhere, bricks, straw, verse.

The breast naturally of Woman is bread before
there was bread, the child the loaf swelling in
Her arms to farm & from such frame a world.

Thus Labor. Bread is History.

Child's toil, unspoiled, forms a culture beast,
he crawls forth, makes bread of soil native &
other, a Mother culture all & still, everywhere.

- Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, from 'Immigrants Exile, Labor, Drive Or Will, And The Lady Mother - A Malafiction'

History before was brunch ever in the world.
Sunday. St. Marks & 1st Avenue. Red, red Simone,
doors open to sun and saunter, the wander, now
'arm in arm they goes' just past the corner where

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Also see the following:

Dream Song 14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

poem by John Berryman from The Dream Songs (1969)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian