Flak. An eventful thought came to me, <br />who squirm in my hole. How will the matter end? <br />Who's king these nights? <br />What happened to . . . day? Are ships abroad? <br />I would like to but may not entertain a friend. <br />Save me from ghastly frights, <br /> <br />Triune! My wood or word seems to be rotting. <br />I daresay I'm collapsing. Worms are at hand. <br />No, all that froze, <br />I mean the blood. 'O get up & go in' <br />somewhere once I heard. Nowadays I doze. <br />It's cold here. <br /> <br />The cold is ultimating. The cold is cold. <br />I am—I should be held together by— <br />but I am breaking up <br />and Henry now has come to a full stop— <br />vanisht his vision, if there was, & fold <br />him over himself quietly.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-85-op-posth-no-8/
