Dream Song 18

77 Dream Songs (1964)

A Strut for Roethke

Westward, hit a low note, for a roarer lostacross the Sound but north from Bremerton,hit a way down note.And never cadenza again of flowers, or cost.Him who could really do that cleared his throat& staggered on.

The bluebells, pool-shallows, saluted his over-needs,while the clouds growled, heh-heh, & snapped, & crashed.

No stunt he’ll ever unflinch once more will fail(O lucky fellow, eh Bones?)—drifted off upstairs,downstairs, somewheres.No more daily, trying to hit the head on the nail:thirstless: without a think in his head:back from wherever, with it said.

Hit a high long note, for a lover foundneeding a lower into friendlier groundto bug among worms no morearound um jungles where ah blurt ‘What for?‘Weeds, too, he favoured as  most men don’t favour men.The Garden Master’s gone.77 Dream Songs (1964)