Muttered Henry:—Lord of matter, thus: <br />upon some more unquiet spirit knock, <br />my madnesses have cease. <br />All the quarter astonishes a lonely out & back. <br />They set their clocks by Henry House, <br />the steadiest man on the block. <br /> <br />And Lucifer:—I smell you for my own, <br />by smug.—What have I tossed you but the least <br />(tho' hard); fit for your ears. <br />Your servant, bored with horror, sat alone <br />with busy teeth while his dislike increased <br />unto himself, in tears. <br /> <br />And he:—O promising despair, <br />in solitude— —End there. <br />Your avenues are dying: leave me: I dove <br />under the oaken arms of Brother Martin, <br />St Simeon the Lesser Theologian, <br />Bodhidharma, and Baal Shem Tov.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-17-muttered-henry-mdash-lord-of-matte/
