mardi 13 février 2018

Last Poem

Before I began life this time
I took a crash course in Counter-Intelligence
Once here I signed in, see name below, and added
Some words remembered from an earlier time, 
“The intention of the organism is to survive.” 
My earliest, & happiest, memories pre-date WW II
They involve a glass slipper & a helpless blue rose
In a slender blue single-rose vase: Mine
Was a story without a plot. The days of my years
Folded into one another, an easy fit, in which
I made money & spent it, learned to dance & forgot, gave
Blood, regained my poise, & verbalized myself a place
In Society. 101 St. Mark’s Place, apt. 12A, NYC 10009
New York. Friends appeared & disappeared, or wigged out, 
Or stayed; inspiring strangers sadly died; everyone
I ever knew aged tremendously, except me. I remained
Somewhere between 2 and 9 years old. But frequent
Reification of my own experiences delivered to me
Several new vocabularies, I loved that almost most of all. 
I once had the honor of meeting Beckett & I dug him. 
The pills kept me going, until now. Love, & work, 
Were my great happinesses, that other people die the source
Of my great, terrible, & inarticulate one grief. In my time
I grew tall & huge of frame, obviously possessed
Of a disconnected head, I had a perfect heart. The end
Came quickly & completely without pain, one quiet night as I
Was sitting, writing, next to you in bed, words chosen randomly
From a tired brain, it like them, suitable, & fitting. 
Let none regret my end who called me friend.

Finish papers, wax floors, lose weight, write songs, sing songs, have 
conference, sculpt, wake up & think more clearly. Clear up asthma. 
treat your obesity, avoid mild depression, decongest, cure your 
treat your hyper-kinetic brain-damaged children. Open the Pandora’s Box 
of amphetamine abuse.

Ted Berrigan

Aucun commentaire: