|‘‘Bats have no bankers and they do not drink
and cannot be arrested and pay no tax
and, in general, bats have it made.”
Archive for John Berryman
For R.H. Deutsch
“sic itur ad astra”
The dog that leaves me behind
as a tail (wags)—the chorus girls,
all the great books & the stinking sea—
never notes the azaleas in bloom
nor differentiates the scent of winter from spring.
Life, friends, is boring, is an animal ache
we wish to bury like a bone.
(Henry grows a beard and gets himself
some medals & some grants).
We drink and dance, and dance and drink
our shadow-show as valid as any dog or cat
though accepting none of it as woman or man.
And all the great words of the masters
& all the gin-and-tonics of all the happy pubs
can ever alter that one dull and inevitable fact:
Henry never gonna know the whys nor the wherefores.
—Mr. Bones, no one ever does.