Winter 1964 • Vol. XXVI No. 1 Poetry |

Three Dream Songs

Ⅰ In a state of chortal sin—once he reflected, swilling tomato juice—live I, and did more than my thirsty years. To Hell then will it haul me? for good talk & gripe of retail loss? I dare say not. I don't think there's that place save somewhat here! where from she flies tonight retrieving her whole body, which I need. I recall a coon treed, flashlights, & barks, and I was in that tree, and something can (has) been said for sobriety but very little. The guns. Ah, darling, it was late for me, midnight, at seven.  (How in famished youth could I foresee Henry's sweet seed unspent across so flying barren ground, where would my loves dislimn whose dogs abound?) I fell out of the tree. ⅠⅠ Some remember ("Pretty well") the Korean war. The unrecruited memory seems to embrace the Bay of Pigs, Franklin Roosevelt. Who has in mind with a shudder Cold Harbor,—Henry is schlaft in his historical moode,—with pity & horror the Bloody Angle? Good Friday, and the e

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In 1945, John Berryman won an early KR contest for short fiction, cosponsored by Doubleday, Doran & Co. Berryman achieved his greatest renown as a poet with the publication of 77 Dream Songs in 1964, which won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry.

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