Tuesday, April 13, 2010

SOTÈRE TORREGIAN: On the Birthday of Ted Berrigan, (1965)

           “Sooner or later we'll all get to speak like Ted Berrigan”

A donkey might consider itself a white stallion
and the ear-phones oft the desert
                                                    tune into us
A hair-breaking pallor
    Nothing to be afraid of

How long has the checker-board been “on the scene”?

                                           It's the miracle she-wolf.

I know I am “too serious”
For “The Daughters of Nothing already for Nothing”
Who will erase my ulcer
See its dry its dry it's got a combination
My friends.
What's left over?

Pagliacci. In the guise of Enrico Caruso bangs his drum with hysteric eyes
His girl-friend's inside he's beating the heart of his bass drum
O that crazy clown Pagliacci!
It seems we stood and talked like this before
Don't Grab from me Baby
I keep my face and open spigot a cry of the winds
Fall all your fresh newspapers

It is the divine stone the white stone with the name
                                                      which no one knows

                                                               New York City
                                                   On Ted's 31st Birthday

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