E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

John Berryman was one of the very best poets of the last century. On this day, in 1972, he jumped to his death from a bridge - no doubt the new year's demands weighing heavily on him. I have written a poem with this very much in mind, published in my previous, third, collection, which I present below, offered in loving homage to one of dark-saddened wit's lyric masters. A link to a site with much more about him is here: http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/6 Berryman In Paris 1. i think, walking home from lunch, of john berryman. how he put his glasses in his shoe, before bed. he had so many wives he was practically a king, indeed, henry. now, too, historical, a figure who can no more dance to the edge of a bridge or tilt his glasses on the bridge of his nose. he’s gone, not leaning in the door, about to say or do something hilarious or sad, play out some inner drama on a college professor’s varsity stage — play out on coeds or fawning poetry buffs, or any chicken farmer wit...