On the Birthday of Ted Berrigan, (1965)

“Sooner or later we'll all get to speak like Ted Berrigan” A donkey might consider itself a white stallion and the ear-phones oft the desert tune into us A hair-breaking pallor Nothing to be afraid of How long has the checker-board been “on the scene”? It's the miracle she-wolf. I know I am “too serious” For “The Daughters of Nothing already for Nothing” Who will erase my ulcer See its dry its dry it's got a combination My friends. What's left over? Pagliacci. In the guise of Enrico Caruso bangs his drum with hysteric eyes His girl-friend's inside he's beating the heart of his bass drum O that crazy clown Pagliacci! It seems we stood and talked like this before Don't Grab from me Baby I keep my face and open spigot a cry of the winds Fall all your fresh newspapers Inquisitors Happiness It is the divine stone the white stone with the name which no one knows New York City On Ted's 31st Birthday