Bright-eyed & bushy tailed woke not Henry up. <br />Bright though upon his workshop shone a vise <br />central, moved in <br />while he was doing time down hospital <br />and growing wise. <br />He gave it the worst look he had left. <br /> <br />Alone. They all abandoned Henry—wonder! all, <br />when most he—under the sun. <br />That was all right. <br />He can't work well with it here, or think. <br />A bilocation, yellow like catastrophe. <br />The name of this was freedom. <br /> <br />Will Henry again ever be on the lookout for women & milk, <br />honour & love again, <br />have a buck or three? <br />He felt like shrieking but he shuddered as <br />(spring mist, warm, rain) an handful with quietness <br />vanisht & the thing took hold.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-52-silent-song/
