The Collected Poems of Ted Berrigan (19 page)

Frank O’Hara’s Question
from “Writers and Issues”
by John Ashbery

what sky

out there is between the ailanthuses

a 17th century prison an aardvark

a photograph of Mussolini and

a personal letter from Isaak Dinesen

written after eating

can be succeeded by a calm evaluation

of the “intense inane” that surrounds

him:

it is cool

I am high

and happy

as it turns

on the earth

tangles me

in the air

and between these two passages (from

the long poem “Biotherm”) occurs a mediating

line which might stand to characterize

all of Mr. O’Hara’s art:

I am guarding it from mess and message.

   
   

Entrance

FOR ED DORN

10 years of boot

Take it away

& it’s off

Under the table

2

& I’m hovering

I’m above
American Language

one foot

is expressing itself as continuum

the other, sock

groan                          I am dog

tired from cake

walking

to here.            That is,

An Entrance.

March 17th, 1970

Someone who loves me calls me

& I just sit, listening

Someone who likes me wires me,

to do something. I’ll do it

Tomorrow.

Someone who wants to do me harm

is after me

& finds me.

I need to kill someone

And that’s what it’s all about.

Right Now.

“In Three Parts”

blank mind part

Sounds pretty sane to me!

never thought of that!

Part two

Excursions across the ice

Confusions of the cloth

bread & butter

bread & butter

kiss kiss

Part Three

LOVE

Addenda: Sleep

Oh, hello, Ted!

Epithalamion

Pussy put her paw into the pail of paint.

“Hip, hop, pip, pop, tip, top, pop-corn”.

The dipper tipped and the sirup dripped upon her apron.

Phillippa put the Parson’s parcel beside the Professor’s papers.

Bowser buried his bone inside a barrel.

The brown bear stole the bumblebee.

White snow whirled everywhere.

The able laborer objects to the bride.

Adam and Eve stumbled over the rubber tube.

Mama made a muffler and a muff for me.

My Mary’s asleep by the murmuring stream

The meadow-mouse uses the lamp for its moonbeam.

In Minneapolis, Minnesota there are many married men.

Many Americans are making money in Mexico.

Homecoming

I sit on                             fat

like

An old dog

Anxious to set.         Across

the fields              fruit

grows                     in

Another state. The map

Goes quietly dark. In the

corners             white

jasmine blossoms begin

To radiate

Cold.             In the sky the

Soft, loose

stars swarm.

Now

drops of blood squirt

Onto the stiff leaves.

Now I

breathe.

Poop

Nature makes my teeth “to hurt”

Each conviction lengthens the sentence

Women are interesting when I look at them

Art is medicine for imbeciles

Great Art is a Great Mistake

If it’s inspiration you want, drop your panties

If I fall in love with my friend’s wife, she’s fucked

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