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John Berryman - Dream Song 36: The high ones die, die. They die
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The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who`s there?
—Easy, easy, Mr Bones. I is on your side.
I smell your grief.
—I sent my grief away. I cannot care
forever. With them all align & again I died
and cried, and I have to live.

—Now there you exaggerate, Sah. We hafta die.
That is our `pointed task. Love & die.
—Yes; that makes sense.
But what makes sense between, then? What if I
roiling & babbling & braining, brood on why and
just sat on the fence?

—I doubts you did or do. De choice is lost.
—It`s fool`s gold. But I go in for that.
The boy & the bear
looked at each other. Man all is tossed
& lost with groin-wounds by the grand bulls, cat.
William Falukner`s where?

(Frost being still around.)
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