77 Dream Songs Read Online Free PDF Page A

nervous, little friends—
    a chairman’s not a chairman, son, forever,
    and hurts with his appointments; ha, but circle—
    take my word for it—
    though maybe Frost is dying—around Mary;
    forget your footnotes on the old gentleman;
    dance around Mary.

36
    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 again & 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? Whatif 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 Faulkner’s where?
    (Frost being still around.)

37
    Three around the Old Gentleman
    His malice was a pimple down his good
    big face, with its sly eyes. I must be sorry
    Mr Frost has left:
    I like it so less I don’t understood—
    he couldn’t hear or see well—all we sift—
    but this is a bad story.
    He had fine stories and was another man
    in private; difficult, always. Courteous,
    on the whole, in private.
    He apologize to Henry, off & on,
    fortwo blue slanders; which was good of him.
    I don’t know how he made it.
    Quickly, off stage with all but kindness, now.
    I can’t say what I have in mind. Bless Frost,
    any odd god around.
    Gentle his shift, I decussate & command,
    stoic deity. For a while here we possessed
    an unusual man.

38
    The Russian grin bellows his condolence
    tó the family: ah but it’s Kay,
    & Ted, & Chis & Anne,
    Henry thinks of: who eased his fearful way
    from here, in here, to there. This wants thought.
    I won’t make it out.
    Maybe the source of noble such may come
    clearer to dazzled Henry. It may come.
    I’d say it will come with pain,
    in mystery. I’d rather leave it alone.
    I do leave it alone.
    Anddown with the listener.
    Now he has become, abrupt, an industry.
    Professional-Friends-Of-Robert-Frost all over
    gap wide their mouths
    while the quirky medium of so many truths
    is quiet. Let’s be quiet. Let us listen:
    —What for, Mr Bones?
                            —while he begins to have it out with Horace.

39
    Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You’re in the clear.
    ‘Nobody’ (Mark says     you said) ‘is ever found out.’
    I figure you were right,
    having as Henry got away with murder
    for long. Some jarred clock tell me it’s late,
    not for you who went straight
    but for the lorn. Our roof is lefted off
    lately: the shooter, and the bourbon man,
    and then you got tired.
    I’m afraid that’s it. I figure youwith love,
    lifey, deathy, but I have a little sense
    the rest of us are fired
    or fired: be with us: we will blow our best,
    our sad wild riffs come easy in that case,
    thinking you over,
    knowing you resting, who was reborn to rest,
    your gorgeous sentence done. Nothing’s the same,
    sir,—taking cover.

40
    I’m scared a lonely. Never see my son,
    easy be not to see anyone,
    combers out to sea
    know they’re goin somewhere but not me.
    Got a little poison, got a little gun,
    I’m scared a lonely.
    I’m scared a only one thing, which is me,
    from othering I don’t take nothin, see,
    for any hound dog’s sake.
    But this is where I livin, where I rake
    my leaves and cop my promise, this’ where we
    cryoursel’s awake.
    Wishin was dyin but I gotta make
    it all this way to that bed on these feet
    where peoples said to meet.
    Maybe but even if I see my son
    forever never, get back on the take,
    free, black & forty-one.

41
    If we sang in the wood (and Death is a German expert)
    while snows flies, chill, after so frequent knew
    so many all of nothing,
    for lead & fire, it’s not we would