Before too many days go by, a poem from Ted Berrigan, American poet, born November 15, 1934; died July 4, 1983. Here is the last poem from The Sonnets, a landmark in postmodern American poetry. The poem collages a number of earlier sonnets along with Prospero’s words from The Tempest.
A FINAL SONNET
for Chris
How strange to be gone in a minute! A man
Signs a shovel and so he digs Everything
Turns into writing a name for a day
Someone
is having a birthday and someone is getting
married and someone is telling a joke my dream
a white tree I dream of the code of the west
But this rough magic I here abjure and
When I have required some heavenly music which
even now
I do to work mine end upon their senses
That this aery charm is for I'll break
My staff bury it certain fathoms in the earth
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book.
It is 5:15 a.m. Dear Chris, hello.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Ted Berrigan
By Michael Leddy at 3:12 PM
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comments: 2
Thank you very much for posting this. My father died a few days ago, and it's because of him that I know this poem. Early this morning I got up looking for it. Thanks to you, I found it.
Dear reader, hello. I’m sorry for your loss and glad that this poem was here for you to find.
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