Thursday, February 12, 2015

Anselm Berrigan

Anselm Berrigan [Poetry Foundation]

Armed with an early
termination fee, a
delusion with regard
to neither denying
nor being of the past,
a lazy fly to center,
a transcription of
a stain on the soul
of the off-looker

. . . In
that we’re waiting on
the okapi to organize
and go on strike, or
counterstrike. In that I
am waiting for the stuffed
okapi, the evil kitty, the
frozen hop, the spineless
doggy, the tubby fox
with babe to organize
and resist. I don’t think
the destructive will aimed
on the inside is elusive
if one is sensitive, but
the tangle of sentences
is hard on the eyelids.

. . . I like
to pay for time as I go
or am just used to doing
so and currently willing
to remark upon it under
the rubric of being
personal, though it’s
just as personal to wipe
my dirty hands across
these pinkened eyes or
pluck that bug from
my wind, both banal
gestures devoid of

. . . I’m a child
programmed to punish
the world.

. . . there’s at least a
germ of truth in there
infecting my psyche.

. . . it’s necessary
to finally renounce violence
everywhere in one’s life
but in one’s self-accusations
isn’t it.

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