Ted Berrigan Poems

Winter in the country, Southampton, pale horse
as the soot rises, then settles, over the pictures
The birds that were singing this morning have shut up
I thought I saw a couple kissing, but Larry said no
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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,
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We are involved in a transpersonified state
Revolution, which is turning yourself around
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10 Things I do Every Day
play poker
drink beer
smoke pot
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Wake up high up
frame bent & turned on
Moving slowly
& by the numbers
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In Joe Brainard's collage its white arrow
He is not in it, the hungry dead doctor.
Of Marilyn Monroe, her white teeth white-
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Under a red face, black velvet shyness
Milking an emaciated gaffer. God lies down
Here. Rattling of a shot, heard
From the first row. The president of the United States
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Here I am at 8:08 p.m. indefinable ample rhythmic frame
The air is biting, February, fierce arabesques
on the way to tree in winter streetscape
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mind clicks into gear
& fingers clatter over the keyboard
as intricate insights stream
out of your head;
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Mountains of twine and
Teeth braced against it
Before gray walls. Feet walk
Released by night (which is not to imply
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