Monday, November 3, 2014

john berryman is dead






john berryman transfixed by henry on the horrid day he shot

himself or took poison 1 or other to  body bronze full of
electric waves and all the whiskey in charlotte WXZT radio 
playing classic music lifting him cashing out of room 8 

yes the summer was hot in chinatown mixed up plenty too 

she bled him fed him more booze hour by hour as he scripting
poems combing through garbage dumps dark alleys salvaging
looking for wooden ships cat eyes hypno-erotic ancient oaths

forgive-fulness golden and silver, full of gamma-rays as 

dead wallpaper peels the yellow room of the notorious
sideways motel pauperized cockroaches swarming by you
as if magnified a 1000 times in coterie of a dying brain

they stored his cremated ashes in a prince albert 

tobacco can mixed with bougainvillea flowers 
and thorns playing polka as they moved ceremoniously 
thy can of bones to wicker zoo on du-champs birthday 
placing it in gorilla cage and stomped on too

a monument to life seen and unseen thru a halo in a

fur lined cage wildly scattered on the ganges  

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