I heard, could be, a Hey there from the wing, <br />and I went on: Miss Bessie soundin good <br />that one, that night of all, <br />I feelin fari myself, taxes & things <br />seem to be back in line, like everybody should <br />and nobody in the snow on call <br /> <br />so, as I say, the house is given hell <br />to Yellow Dog, I blowin like it too <br />and Bessie always do <br />when she make a very big sound—after, well, <br />no sound—I see she totterin—I cross which stage <br />even at Henry's age <br /> <br />in 2-3 seconds: then we wait and see. <br />I hear strange horns, Pinetop he hit some chords, <br />Charlie start Empty Bed, <br />they all come hangin Christmas on some tree <br />after trees thrown out—sick-house's white birds', <br />black to the birds instead.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-68-i-heard-could-be-a-hey-there-from/
