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Sunday, Jan. 3, 2010

Berrigan

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What hands of bear seduction   ever slipped
the sleeves of a human unlike him?  He could surely sweep
off of feet    bears     his hair rushed back beneath the bright wind of
his face   the snow-drenched pinnacle.   His face
        gaze of deep                        distance,   the bright bark
buoyant in face     one would say “eyelids of the sea”
no man ever needed eyes with eyes like his eyes
he glides in coveted spaces   a great whale
beneath our feet     his ghosty forehead surfaces
with great whale eyes stare the innocent air   In visions
    poets will translate    his eyes  
    Forever
          will he be felt by    his eyes    the sphinxed blimps     his face
gasped above the grasp of       to take flight soon
would sleep kindly  his mind   on the air   this would seem more
true.  Glass of his sculpted lips whishes smoothly
in the wishful sounds of him;  storms sleep awfully beneath his wings
of Teddy seduction.  No notion is aware of him.  No birds feel
him enter them.  No tree moves.  He walks through them
dressed in red blocks of air.
                                                        He’s too huge to fits on nets.







J.M.W. Ramm says “a word is simple to the touch, as any surface.
As pounding waves he was born and married by the lake.”
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