The Collected Poems of Ted Berrigan (59 page)

as I’d have it said, Paul,

I hear you, do. Crossing Park Avenue

South; 4:14 a.m.; going West at

23rd; September 1st, 1971.

I take him

purely as treasure

His exquisite pain

pinpoints my evasive pleasure.

Don’t think him to be

Any more than you see

& Don’t be beastly

to him. If you do

he’ll let you see him

seeing you:

& you’ll wake up hating yourself

for hating him.

You will.

you’re so funny! I’d give you

all of my money, anytime,

just to see what you’d say!

alas, all I have is a dime.

How you talk is my heart’s

delight. You are

more terrible than your step-dad,

more great than bright light.

Anne,

A Happy Birthday, late, to you,

Never less than great to us, great

Light and air in our lives, that bus

Whose windows look always to you, so straight

so true;

love;

Ted

FOR BILL BERKSON

1.

“This mushroom walks in.”

2.

“And one cannot go back except in time.”

3.

“Nothing is gained by assurance as to what is insecure.”

4.

“I have a machine-gun trained on Scotland Yard.”

5.

“The body sends out self to repel non-self.”

6.

“I can get close & still stay outside.”

7.

“See the why, knowing what: the clear enigma.”

8.

“a fragrant flowered shrub       blush       a clean tantrum.”

Six months of each other

Evoke the birth throes

This primitive magnetic expression of the heads

Above all the hypnotic presence of staring eyes that have

a ritualistic fixity

Against the broad arcs whose force not only cuts wildly

Into a jungle of coarse energies

But whose fury is substituted for the rigorous control

of eye & intellect

So a penchant for the grotesque is hardly absent

This perfect day.

Above his head clanged

Turning

And there were no dreams

in this sleep

Over this table.

FOR LEWIS MACADAMS

my crib your crib

the interior burns           I read

white palm over the coffee can

in the quiet

a manual

of gentle but determined practices

“I want human to begin with”

A small voice walks across the grey empty room.

He never listened while friends talked. He worked

steadily to the even current of sound; but if a note

of distress were struck he was aware of it at once.

Like a wireless operator with a novel open in front

of him, he could disregard every signal except the

ship’s symbol and the
S.O.S
. He could even work better

when they talked than when they were silent, for so long

as his ear-drum registered those tranquil sounds—their

deep gossip, comments on the sermons preached by one

another, plots of new movies, even commentaries on and complaints

about the weather—he knew that all was well. It was

silence that stopped him working—silence in which he might

look up and see terror waiting in their eyes for

his attention.

Rain or Shine:

dig it: the solitude of

someone

Call for Company Men

& Women

to become

at the very least

visible

in all of our daily lives.

Name one possible man:        Jim

One possible woman:        Maggie May, or

at least,

maybe

Gather ye rosebuds, gimmicks,

Crystal,

Schmee,

make-up

the necessary Will

to insist on Grace

from time to time, at

your
place

where light in waves

thru motes of dust

lends all your combinations

lust:     this

ardor to

Believe in Now as the noun it is

when “why not”

hits this town:

“that’s your given prerogative,

son”

We all do something; it goes

without saying; you

do it.

It got done.

Red Air

& I can hear the red bus

sing

Morning has broken

meticulously

labelled                        the East Wing is fossils

sinister habits                                          antiques

in fact a pleasant park

a government department

bulbs

birth

severe abundance swirlings

The most

spectacular object

in it

a great

shining

prolific

automatic

electric

churchyard

map-maker

mute

flickering

imagination

bejewelled

coarse

display

the euphonious person

in hey-day

wholesomeness

taken

over-large

fuses

With a little lantern above

A sort of canopy

pitched within a room

architecture

Church

with the exception of

One steel office building

A cold violent backside to you

A little saucer dome

imp anonymity

little plateaus in various arms

Swallower of former designs

true stone fan virile shadow

functional sinews of mood & tempo of

ballcourt

COFFEE

Square bracketing vision bubble dome

Central Presences Naked in the Shroud:

Sensible in the air

bronze pedestrian tree-ape

grace-note

the dizzying staircase

non-euphonious personal

disguise.

It’s made of everything, slow

stains & flash

You can see, for example,

green, past enchantment

& trees wave in passing

Even the children today are smart

& not just more people

Look!

Strolling, sassy, dashing, brilliant!

The whole world turns, to see

nods, interminably its head

Cool black cats, super white stars

will dance all night in that wake!

Of three minutes of sunlight.

Last night

before retiring,

one of those brain-spasms

I guess all poets must have

prompted me to write

in my bedside

notebook

which, incidentally

is blue, and shaped like

a Regular Grind

MAXWELL HOUSE

Coffee can

these words:

“I advance Dagwood Bumstead as

the pre-eminent philosopher of our time.”

This morning,

I awakened to the startling

realization that

overnight I had become transformed

into the person

of that noble & decent man,

“Dr. Watson.” For good.

Over Belle Vue Road that silence said

To mean an angel is passing overhead.

Anselm’s round head framed peering in the garden door

Four & ½ hours before, I didn’t hear

The doorbell ring—7:30 a.m. Greenwich Summer Time—

Announcing the arrival

Of the celebrated Greek-American Poet

from Chicago: John Paul! Was that

An Alice or a Mabel who let him in?

First to visit us

In Wonderful Wivenhoe, where

Once smugglers ran amok, smuggling

What? and now Alice goes out

To shoppe.

“I have only one work, & I hardly know what it is!”

My baby throws my shoes through the door.

Baby-talk woke up the world, today

little Anselm,

Alice, Mabel,