There were strange gatherings. A vote would come <br />that would be no vote. There would come a rope. <br />Yes. There would come a rope. <br />Men have their hats down. "Dancing in the Dark" <br />will see him up, car-radio-wise. So many, some <br />won't find a rut to park. <br /> <br />It is in the occasions, that—not the fathomless heart— <br />the thinky death consists; <br />his chest is pinched. The enemy are sick, <br />and so is us of. Often, to rising trysts, <br />like this one, drove he out <br /> <br />and gasps of love, after all, had got him ready. <br />However things hurt, men hurt worse. He's stark <br />to be jerked onward? <br />Yes. In the headlights he got' keep him steady, <br />leak not, look out over. This' hard work, <br />boss, wait' for The Word.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-10-there-were-strange-gatherings-a-vo/
