Home ⇒ 📌John Berryman ⇒ Dream Song 127: Again, his friend's death made the man sit still
Dream Song 127: Again, his friend's death made the man sit still
Again, his friend’s death made the man sit still
And freeze inside—his daughter won first price—
His wife scowled over at him—
It seemed to be Hallowe’en.
His friend’s death had been adjudged suicide,
Which dangles a trail
Longer than Henry’s chill, longer than his loss
And longer than the letter that he wrote
That day to the widow
To find out what the hell had happened thus.
All souls converge upon a hopeless mote
Tonight, as though
The throngs of souls in hopeless pain rise up
To say they cannot care, to say they abide
Whatever is to come.
My air is flung with souls which will not stop
And among them hangs a soul that has not died
And refuses to come home.
(2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring 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 (repeatedly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored Means you have no Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no Inner resources, because I am […]...
- Dream Song 41: If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert) 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. Or: men pslam. Man palms his ears and moans. Death is a German […]...
- Dream Song 121: Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it Grief is fatiguing. He is out of it, The whole humiliating Human round, Out of this & that. He made a-many hearts go pit-a-pat Who now need never mind his nostril-hair Nor a critical error laid bare. He endured fifty years. He was Randall Jarrell And wrote a-many books & he wrote well. Peace to […]...
- THE DEATH OF THE FLY WITH eagerness he drinks the treach’rous potion, Nor stops to rest, by the first taste misled; Sweet is the draught, but soon all power of motion He finds has from his tender members fled; No longer has he strength to plume his wing, No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing! E’en in enjoyment’s […]...
- Dream Song 12: Sabbath There is an eye, there was a slit. Nights walk, and confer on him fear. The strangler tree, the dancing mouse Confound his vision; then they loosen it. Henry widens. How did Henry House Himself ever come here? Nights run. Tes yeux bizarres me suivent When loth at landfall soft I leave. The soldiers, Coleridge […]...
- On The Death Of Friends In Childhood We shall not ever meet them bearded in heaven Nor sunning themselves among the bald of hell; If anywhere, in the deserted schoolyard at twilight, Forming a ring, perhaps, or joining hands In games whose very names we have forgotten. Come memory, let us seek them there in the shadows....
- Dream Song 57: In a state of chortle sin once he reflected In a state of chortle sin—once he reflected, Swilling tomato juice—live I, and did More than my thirstier years. To Hell then will it maul me? for good talk, And gripe of retail loss? I dare say not. I don’t thÃnk there’s that place Save sullen here, wherefrom she flies tonight Retrieving her whole body, […]...
- Bereavement in their death to feel Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs between For Stranger Strangers do not mourn There be Immortal friends Whom Death see first ’tis news of this That paralyze Ourselves Who, vital only to Our Thought Such Presence bear away In dying ’tis as […]...
- Dream Song 80: Op. posth. no. 3 It’s buried at a distance, on my insistence, buried. Weather’s severe there, which it will not mind. I miss it. O happies before & during & between the times it got married. I hate the love of leaving it behind, Deteriorating & hopeless that. The great Uh climbed above me, far above me, Doing the […]...
- Dream Song 56: Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Hell is empty. O that has come to pass Which the cut Alexandrian foresaw, And Hell is empty. Lightning fell silent where the Devil knelt And over the whole grave space hath settled awe In a full death of guilt. The tinchel closes. Terror, & plunging, swipes. I lay my ears back. I am about […]...
- Ballad of Dead Friends As we the withered ferns By the roadway lying, Time, the jester, spurns All our prayers and prying All our tears and sighing, Sorrow, change, and woe All our where-and-whying For friends that come and go. Life awakes and burns, Age and death defying, Till at last it learns All but Love is dying; Love’s […]...
- I Have Some Friends I have some friends, some worthy friends, And worthy friends are rare: These carpet slippers on my feet, That padded leather chair; This old and shabby dressing-gown, So well the worse of wear. I have some friends, some honest friends, And honest friends are few; My pipe of briar, my open fire, A book that’s […]...
- Dream Song 131: Come touch me baby in his waking dream Come touch me baby in his waking dream Disordered Henry murmured. I’ll read you Hegel And that will hurt your mind I can’t remember when you were unkind But I will clear that block, I’ll set you on fire Along with our babies To save them up the high & ruined stairs, My growing daughters. […]...
- Dream Song 85: Op. posth. no. 8 Flak. An eventful thought came to me, Who squirm in my hole. How will the matter end? Who’s king these nights? What happened to. . . day? Are ships abroad? I would like to but may not entertain a friend. Save me from ghastly frights, Triune! My wood or word seems to be rotting. I […]...
- Dream Song 84: Op. posth. no. 7 Plop, plop. The lobster toppled in the pot, Fulfilling, dislike man, his destiny, Glowing fire-red, Succulent, and on the whole becoming what Man wants. I crack my final claw singly, Wind up the grave, & to bed. €”Sound good, Mr Bones. I wish I had me some. (I spose you got a lessen up your […]...
- Dream Song 49: Blind Old Pussy-cat if he won’t eat, he don’t Feel good into his tum’, old Pussy-cat. He wants to have eaten. Tremor, heaves, he sweaterings. He can’t. A dizzy swims of where is Henry at; . . . somewhere streng verboten. How come he sleeps & sleeps and sleeps, waking like death: Locate the restorations of […]...
- Song For Heroes Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave; He refused to abandon his ship; A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave- And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp, Haw! Haw! His widow is now Mrs. Bipp! Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace; Five thousand feet up he was hit; Each year on his grave pretty […]...
- Dream Song 89: Op. posth. no. 12 In a blue series towards his sleepy eyes They slid like wonder, women tall & small, Of every shape & size, In many languages to lisp ‘We do’ To Henry almost waking. What is the night at all, His closed eyes beckon you. In the Marriage of the Dead, a new routine, He gasped his […]...
- Dream Song 88: Op. posth. no. 11 In slack times visit I the violent dead And pick their awful brains. Most seem to feel Nothing is secret more To my disdain I find, when we who fled Cherish the knowings of both worlds, conceal More, beat on the floor, Where Bhain is stagnant, dear of Henry’s friends, Yellow with cancer, paper-thin, & […]...
- Dream Song 6: A Capital at Wells During the father’s walking—how he look Down by now in soft boards, Henry, pass And what he feel or no, who know? — As during hÃs broad father’s, all the breaks & ill-lucks of a thriving pioneer Back to the flying boy in mountain air, Vermont’s child to go out, and while Keats sweat’ For […]...
- My Friends My friends without shields walk on the target It is late the windows are breaking My friends without shoes leave What they love Grief moves among them as a fire among Its bells My friends without clocks turn On the dial they turn They part My friends with names like gloves set out Bare handed […]...
- Dream Song 61: Full moon. Our Narragansett gales subside Full moon. Our Narragansett gales subside And the land is celebrating men of war More or less, less or more. In valleys, thin on headlands, narrow & wide Our targets rest. In us we trust. Far, near, The bivouacs of fear Are solemn in the moon somewhere tonight, In turning time. It’s late for gratitude, […]...
- Dream Song 122: He published his girl's bottom in staid pages He published his girl’s bottom in staid pages Of an old weekly. Where will next his rages Ridiculous Henry land? Tranquil & chaste, de-hammocked, he descended— Upon which note the fable should have ended— Towards the ground, and While fable wound itself upon him thick And coats upon his tongue formed, white, terrific: He stretched […]...
- To My Friends Yes, my friends! that happier times have been Than the present, none can contravene; That a race once lived of nobler worth; And if ancient chronicles were dumb, Countless stones in witness forth would come From the deepest entrails of the earth. But this highly-favored race has gone, Gone forever to the realms of night. […]...
- Dream Song 24: Oh servant Henry lectured till Oh servant Henry lectured till The crows commenced and then He bulbed his voice & lectured on some more. This happened again & again, like war, — The Indian p. a.’s, such as they were, A weapon on his side, for the birds. Vexations held a field-monsoon. He was Introduced, and then he was Summed-up. […]...
- 345. Song-Frae the friends and land I love FRAE the friends and land I love, Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite; Frae my best belov’d I rove, Never mair to taste delight: Never mair maun hope to find Ease frae toil, relief frae care; When Remembrance wracks the mind, Pleasures but unveil despair. Brightest climes shall mirk appear, Desert ilka blooming shore, Till the […]...
- Dream Song 48: He yelled at me in Greek He yelled at me in Greek, My God! —It’s not his language And I’m no good at—his Aramaic, Was—I am a monoglot of English (American version) and, say pieces from A baker’s dozen others: where’s the bread? But rising in the Second Gospel, pal: The seed goes down, god dies, A rising happens, Some crust, […]...
- Dream Song 132: A Small Dream A Small Dream It was only a small dream of the Golden World, Now you trot off to bed. I’ll turn the machine off, You’ve danced & trickt us enough. Unintelligible whines & imprecations, hurled From the second floor, fail to impress your mother And I am the only other And I say go to […]...
- Dream Song 87: Op. posth. no. 10 these hearings endlessly, friends, word is had Henry may be returning to our life Adult & difficult. There exist rumors that remote and sad And quite beyond the knowledge of his wife To the foothills of the cult Will come in silence this distinguished one Essaying once again the lower slopes In triumph, keeping up […]...
- Dear Friends Dear Friends, reproach me not for what I do, Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say That I am wearing half my life away For bubble-work that only fools pursue. And if my bubbles be too small for you, Blow bigger then your own: the games we play To fill the frittered minutes of […]...
- Dream Song 30: Collating bones: I would have liked to do 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? Hell talkt my brain awake. Bluffed to the ends of me pain & I took up a […]...
- Dream Song 68: I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing, And I went on: Miss Bessie soundin good That one, that night of all, I feelin fari myself, taxes & things Seem to be back in line, like everybody should And nobody in the snow on call So, as I say, the house is given […]...
- Dream Song 53: He lay in the middle of the world, and twicht 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. €”I seldom go to films. They are too exciting, Said the Honourable Possum. €”It takes me so […]...
- Dream Song 44: Tell it to the forest fire, tell it to the moon Tell it to the forest fire, tell it to the moon, Mention it in general to the moon On the way down, He’s about to have his lady, permanent; And this is the worst of all came ever sent Writhing Henry’s way. Ha ha, fifth column, quisling, genocide, He held his hands & laught from […]...
- Dream Song 107: Three 'coons come at his garbage. He be cross 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 And they swirled, before some two swerve off This side of crab tree, […]...
- Dream Song 38: The Russian grin bellows his condolence The Russian grin bellows his condolence Tó the family: ah but it’s Kay, & Ted, & Chris & Anne, Henry thinks of: who eased his fearful way From here, in here, to there. This wants thought. I won’t make it out. Maybe the source of noble such may come Clearer to dazzled Henry. It may […]...
- The First Dream The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight And as I lean against the door of sleep I begin to think about the first person to dream, How quiet he must have seemed the next morning As the others stood around the fire Draped in the skins of animals Talking to each other only in […]...
- The Lover Pleads With His Friend For Old Friends Though you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time’s bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes....
- Dream Song 136: While his wife earned the living, Rabbi Henry While his wife earned the living, Rabbi Henry Studied the Torah, writing commentaries More likely to be burnt than printed. It was rumoured that they needed revision. Smiling, kissing, he bent his head not with ‘Please’ But with austere requests barely hinted, Like a dog with a bone he worried the Sacred Book And often […]...
- Dream Song 55: Peter's not friendly. He gives me sideways looks Peter’s not friendly. He gives me sideways looks. The architecture is far from reassuring. I feel uneasy. A pity, Гўв‚”the interview began so well: I mentioned fiendish things, he waved them away And sloshed out a martini Strangely needed. We spoke of indifferent mattersГўв‚” God’s health, the vague hell of the Congo, John’s energy, Anti-matter […]...
« TO LUNA