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Sonnet 27

John Berryman

In a poem made by Cummings, long since, his
Girl was the rain, but darling you are the sunlight
Volleying down blue air, waking a flight
Of sighs to follow like the mourning iris
Your shining-out-of-shadow hair I miss
A fortnight and to-noon. What you excite
You are, you are me: as light's parasite
For vision on... us. O if my synchrisis
Teases you, briefer than Propertius' in
This paraphrase by Pound—to whom I owe
Three letters—why, run through me like a comb:
I lie down flat! under your discipline
I die. No doubt of visored others, though...
The broad sky dumb with stars shadows me home.

Submitted by Holt

Added: 1 Mar 2004 | Last Read: 21 Oct 2018 7:05 PM | Viewed: 3812 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/9210/ | Viewed on 21 October 2018.
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