The Collected Poems of Ted Berrigan (22 page)

everything is poison

except our meat

Flowers and candy make my teeth ache

The most beautiful and most noble

of men are queers

get the pussy

mystical explanations are dopey

Aunt Winnie fingers the thunder to learn,

so that we have left everything aside

but not as a cloud mind steps beside

the slow reservoir

now it is all of this, the pink bulbs included,

which means we have “protected ourselves”

by forgetting all we were dealt

BY TED BERRIGAN & JIM CARROLL

I love all the girls

I’ve been in bed with

I even love those

who preferred not to do anything

once there:

Tho it seems to me now

they were nuts!

(the latter)

in bed.

TO DAVID HENDERSON

I hope to go

everywhere

in good time:

Going’s a pleasure,

being someplace

& then

Many Happy Returns

But Africa,

I don’t know

all that heat

all the time

even when it’s raining

all the time . . .

I’ve always found heat

constant heat

difficult

to get inside of

& not to mention

impossible to avoid . . .

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

That’s true.

Go now      /     Pay later

Equally—You can do anything you want to.

Yes, I know that.

But Africa:

well, I do know one thing

for sure:

It would be tremendous

Africa

going there

to go there with

David Henderson!

(Just like Pittsburgh).

TO JOAN FAGIN

Joan,

I like you

plenty.

You’d do

to ride the river with.

I take these tiny pills

to our love.

Plenty.

Then I drink up the river.

Be seeing you.

What to do

when the days’ heavy heart

having risen, late

in the already darkening East

& prepared at any moment, to sink

into the West

surprises suddenly,

& settles, for a time,

at a lovely place

where mellow light spreads

evenly

from face to face?

The days’ usual aggressive

contrary beat

now softly dropped

into a regular pace

the head riding gently its personal place

where pistons feel like legs

on feelings met like lace.

Why,

take a walk, then,

across this town. It’s a pleasure

to meet one certain person you’ve been counting on

to take your measure

who will smile, & love you, sweetly, at your leisure.

And if

she turns your head around

like any other man,

go home

and make yourself a sandwich

of toasted bread, & ham

with butter

lots of it

& have a diet cola,

& sit down

& write this,

because you can.

TO KRISTIN LEMS

We miss something now

as we think about it

Let’s see: eat, sleep & dream, read

A good book, by Robert Stone

Be alone

Knew of it first

in New York City. Couldn’t find it

in Ann Arbor, though

I like it here

Had to go back to New York

Found it on the Upper West Side

there

I can’t live with you

But you live

here in my heart

You keep me alive and alert

aware of something missing

going on

I woke up today just in time

to introduce a poet

then to hear him read his rhymes

so unlike mine          & not bad

as I’d thought another time

no breakfast, so no feeling fine.

Then I couldn’t find the party, afterwards

then I did

then I talked with you.

Now it’s back

& a good thing for us

It’s letting us be wise, that’s why

it’s being left up in the air

You can see it, there