Muttered Henry:â?”Lord of matter, thus:
upon some more unquiet spirit knock,
my madnesses have cease.
All the quarter astonishes a lonely out & back.
They set their clocks by Henry House,
the steadiest man on the block.
And Lucifer:â?”I smell you for my own,
by smug.â?”What have I tossed you but the least
(tho’ hard); fit for your ears.
Your servant, bored with horror, sat alone
with busy teeth while his dislike increased
unto himself, in tears.
And he:â?”O promising despair,
in solitudeâ?” â?”End there.
Your avenues are dying: leave me: I dove
under the oaken arms of Brother Martin,
St Simeon the Lesser Theologian,
Bodhidharma, and Baal Shem Tov.
(John Berryman)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Brothers Poems, Devils Poems, Boredom Poems, Theology PoemsBased on Keywords: smell, servant, busy, horror, matter, cease, teeth, dove, unto, block, knock