I recall a boil, whereupon as I had to sit,
just where, and when I had to, for deadlines.
O I could learn to type standing,
but isn’t it slim to be slumped off from that,
problems undignified, fiery dig salt mines?â?”
Content on one’s black flat:
soming no deadlineâ?”is all ancient nonsenseâ?”
no typewritersâ?”ha! ha!â?”no typewritersâ?”
alas!
For I have much to open, I know immense
troubles & wonders to their secret curse.
Yet when erect on my ass,
pissed off, I sat two-square, I kept shut my mouth
and stilled my nimble fingers across keys.
That is I stood up.
Now since down I lay, void of love & ruth,
I’d howl my knowings, only there’s the earth
overhead. Plop!
(John Berryman)
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Based on Topics: Love PoemsBased on Keywords: flat, secret, content, void, salt, fingers, fiery, isn, recall, wonders, standing