“Sooner or later we'll all get to speak like Ted Berrigan”
A donkey might consider itself a white stallion
and the ear-phones oft the desert
tune into us
A hair-breaking pallor
Nothing to be afraid of
How long has the checker-board been “on the scene”?
It's the miracle she-wolf.
I know I am “too serious”
For “The Daughters of Nothing already for Nothing”
Who will erase my ulcer
See its dry its dry it's got a combination
What's left over?
Pagliacci. In the guise of Enrico Caruso bangs his drum with hysteric eyes
His girl-friend's inside he's beating the heart of his bass drum
O that crazy clown Pagliacci!
It seems we stood and talked like this before
Don't Grab from me Baby
I keep my face and open spigot a cry of the winds
Fall all your fresh newspapers
It is the divine stone the white stone with the name
which no one knows
New York City
On Ted's 31st Birthday
Sotere Torregian, "On the Birthday of Ted Berrigan, (1965)" from “I Must Go” (She Said) “Because My Pizza’s Cold”. Copyright © 2002 by Sotere Torregian. Reprinted by permission of Skanky Possum.
Source: “I Must Go” (She Said) “Because My Pizza’s Cold”. (Skanky Possum, 2002)
Poems by Sotère Torregian