The Collected Poems of Ted Berrigan (41 page)

The airport is closed

The mailbox is closed

The fingernail is closed

The ankle is closed

The skeleton is closed

The melon is closed

The angel is closed                   The football is closed

The coffee is closed                The grass is closed

The tree is closed

The sky is dark

The dark is closed

The bridge is closed

The movie is closed

The girl is closed            The gods are closed

The blue is closed

The white is closed

The sun is closed

The ship is closed

The army is closed

The war is closed

The poolcue is closed

Six is closed

eight is closed

four is closed

Seven is closed

The lab is closed        The bank is closed          The Times is closed

The leaf is closed

The bear is closed

Lunch is closed

New York City is closed

Texas is closed

New Orleans is closed

Miami is closed

Okmulgee is closed

Sasebo is closed

Cranston is closed

The Fenway is closed

Bellevue is closed

Columbia is closed

9th Street is closed

2nd Street is closed

First Avenue is closed

Horatio St. is closed

66 is closed

Painting is closed                             Leibling is closed

Long Island is closed

Stones are closed           The afternoon is closed

The friends are closed

& Daddy is closed

& brother is closed & sister is

closed

Your mother is closed

& I am closed—& I am closed

& tears are closed

& the hole is closed     & the boat has left         & the day is closed.

FOR KENNETH KOCH

Here I am again.

Show me what to do,

help me to do it.

Ezra Pound:       A Witness

insouciant

one can only are

Today is Courty Bryan’s birthday,

O weep, ye fiends!

In front of him was

his head.

Behind him were

men.

He was a man alone.

bear with me

MOONDOG

The

Elephant

is

the

wisest

of

all

animals,

the

only

one

who

remembers

his

former

lives;

and

he

remains

motionless

for

long

periods

of

time,

meditating

thereon.

FOR EDWARD DORN

“And the nights shall be filled with music

And the cares that infect the day

Shall fold up their tents like soldiers

Gone, O these are soldiers unique to our day!”

In the first stage of the revolution

In an attempt to establish & maintain

a fixed base

He was wounded in the foot, & had to

withdraw into the interior.

A natural bent, no doubt

FOR LARRY FAGIN

Blue

be the sky

& soft

the breeze

Today

offers Gertrude Stein

a chance

to burn leaves.

I’m lying in bed

reading this

& that

another person

sits up straight

breathes                 he’s

different.

I go in &

sit down

at this desk.

I am kinks.

slack

I cannot reach it.

Light

spreads

evenly

from face to

face.

Destroys the race.

FOR DAVID BERRIGAN

This city night

you walk in

no virgin                             think of me

as I think of you

I am in bed

with a crab.

A woman’s love

is like

the morning dew

it’s just as apt

to fall on

a radiant horseturd

as on a rose.

Beautiful girl.

Purple lights.

Foot Asleep.

Nothing happened.

FOR LARRY FAGIN

You are lovely.

I am lame.

Picasso would be very

intellectual

if he were a fish.

To England’s very great relief,

Pierre Reverdy did not write,
The Wasteland
.

poem

frogs

mud                  February

“in mothballs”

Ah, me!

You are very interesting

because

you are a talking

eggbeater

and that is interesting.

Peter Rabbit came in

under the covers & sd

“Where’s the money?”

Anne reads her Troubadour poem

to the radiant black & white

& brown bodies & face

of the lady inmates

of the Colorado State Pen,

22 July, 1978, gorgeous summer afternoon.

(FOR ANTHONY STERN)

Found Picasso

Jean Cocteau

&

William Carlos Williams in

a blue river

in London.

It’s Morning!

a childe of

the House

of David

sweeps

in

Zurich

not old

near

a

rose.

Strong coffee in

our cups

Crystal & Blue

4 a.m. in Zurich

Lassie

mit Voltaire?

Sun and Moon in the same Sky?

Nice day.

Keep my

Comb at your

house . . .

I Do It All For You.

You had gone for a drive in the

country

I was crying in

a Japanese

bar

Now I’m having a coke with you!

Childe of the House

of David

night

She

is the new sound

of the rain

& so they wed

and lived together forever.

We

fight

in

our

sleep

the

right

angles

angels

“on St. Mark’s Place.”

O Rose,

“the unquenchable variety,”

the patient

survived—

but the

operation

was not a

success . . .