The Geranium Hotel Poems

Great feelings of the rotten heart I can't help but steal unpolished gold for you There is nothing in this heaven That is neither medicine nor tonic Do you fall along the pathway in your sleep? Or find the tread of your shoes in your dream Can you believe the voice that you hear? Is it that of your mother's? It could be that of your own- faint, mossy, dusty The world for you is still flat The world is still a threat And in the garden we will tie the monster to the cross We will bury the horse and drown the rich Something will happen soon, something fine Something that lifts the rain Something that helps the landslides fall far And when we grab at the trees When we start burning the ladders Mocking hounds and charging at those stubborn bulls We know that bravery is a word that was born with triumph Yet who knows what decision was made when the letter was sent Who knows what step will be taken Where will the fox bite you? I know Fear resides down by the

John Berryman, I found myself sitting on the concrete step Reading a collection of your poetry A mine of your thoughts on Henry and Bones Waiting for my ride to leave her office It was raining, I suppose you might have liked the divine water Coming from the misunderstood heaven I was dry on those steps Watching the birds fly against the grey I read of your elixir, I read of your thoughts My thoughts were of stews and disguises My fingers ran down your yellow pages My eyes ran down your stains In judgement, in rapture, in on your secret You see, John Berryman, I believe in you I believe in your soul, your guilt, your pleasure I believe in your heterosexual mortality I found myself sitting on that stairwell Watching the horoscopes fall down into your lap Watching the leaves turn into the rotting flesh of Autumn The students of the university running Their shoes leaving magnificent craters in brown mud These young men and women just like those who you would have ta