Dream Song 50: In a motion of night they massed nearer my post by John Berryman
In a motion of night they massed nearer my post. I hummed a short blues. When the stars went out I studied my weapons system. Grenades, the portable rack, the yellow spout of the anthrax-ray: in order. Yes, and most of my pencils were sharp.
This edge of the galaxy has often seen a defence so stiff, but it could only go one way. —Mr Bones, your troubles give me vertigo, & backache. Somehow, when I make your scene, I cave to feel as if
de roses of dawns & pearls of dusks, made up by some ol' writer-man, got right forgot & the greennesses of ours. Springwater grow so thick it gonna clot and the pleasing ladies cease. I figure, yup, you is bad powers.
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