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More poems by John BerrymanJohn Berryman | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by John BerrymanBooks by John Berryman

Dream Song 14: Life, friends, is boring

John Berryman

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.

Added: 3 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 18 Jul 2018 4:21 PM | Viewed: 12822 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1058/ | Viewed on 18 July 2018.
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