Ted Berrigan: Sonnet 34

SONNET 34

Time flies by like a great whale
And I find my hand grows stale at the throttle
Of my many faceted and fake appearance
Who bucks and spouts by detour under the sheets
Hollow portals of solid appearance
Movies are poems, a holy bible, the great mother to us
People go by in the fragrant day
Accelerate softly my blood
But blood is still blood and tall as a mountain blood
Behind me green rubber grows, feet walk
In wet water, and dusty heads grow wide
Padré, Father, or fat old man, as you will,
I am afraid to succeed, afraid to fail,
Tell me now, again, who I am

Ted Berrigan

Photo credit:  perspective by mistress f

~ by matt on 27 April 2008.

3 Responses to “Ted Berrigan: Sonnet 34”

  1. […] meters. Ted Berrigan’s The Sonnets is probably the best example I can think of. Here’s his Sonnet 34. So no iambs, no meter, but there are 14 lines, and Berrigan’s poems share the restless […]

  2. lovely…

    have to get my hand on this..

  3. […] I first came across Ted Berrigan’s Sonnet XXXIV, I was immediately captivated by it. I feel it’s filled with great lines that speak to me […]

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