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John Berryman - Dream Song 61: Full moon. Our Narragansett gales subside
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Full moon. Our Narragansett gales subside
and the land is celebrating men of war
more or less, less or more.
In valleys, thin on headlands, narrow & wide
our targets rest. In us we trust. Far, near,
the bivouacs of fear

are solemn in the moon somewhere tonight,
in turning time. It`s late for gratitude,
an annual, rude
roar of a moment`s turkey`s `Thanks`. Bright & white
their ordered markers undulate away
awaiting no day.

Away from us, from Henry`s feel or fail,
campaigners lie with mouldered toes, disarmed,
out of order,
with whom we will one. The war is real,
and a sullen glory pauses over them harmed,
incident to murder.
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