Henry in trouble whirped out lonely whines. <br />When ich when was ever not in trouble? <br />But did he whip out whines <br />afore? And when check in wif ales & lifelines <br />anyone earlier O?—Some, now, Mr Bones, <br />many.—I am fleeing double: <br /> <br />Mr Past being no friends of mine, <br />all them around: Sir Future Dubious, <br />calamitous & grand: <br />I can no foothold here; wherefore I pines <br />for Dr Present, who won't thrive to us <br />hand over neither hand <br /> <br />from them blue depths nor choppering down skies <br />does Dr Present vault unto his task. <br />Henry is weft on his own. <br />Pluck Dr Present. Let his grievous wives <br />thrall lie to livey toads. May his chains bask. <br />lower him, Capt Owen, into the sun.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-114-henry-in-trouble-whirped-out-lone/
