Dream Song

Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;
Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.
Hart Crane

1. A view from Washington Avenue Bridge

‘O come on down, O come on down’, the river
lures our famous, fucked-up poet, ‘behold
these languid, shit-streaked waters, feel the shiver
that chilled old Mr Bones.’ Henry, the cold
North Wind blows in from Manitoba; we know
you suffer, wake hungover, grow too old.
Your dream song asks, ‘Where did it all go wrong?’
The literati freaks observe you clinging
to the parapet—speculate how long
it takes to lose your grip. Henry singing
raucously, a bitter chariot swings low,
de Ol' Man River say, ‘Let go, Let go.’

2. Sotto in Su

First rule of comedy, when all else fails—
fall over. Timing though, is everything;
even as you clamber across the rails
you sense they’ve seen it coming. Still, you fling
yourself towards the slivered sun,
Icarus, upside down tumbling, falling
towards the sky’s blank mirror.
‘The meaningless underside of bridges’—
who knows better the travesty of horror,
the perfect peace beyond enticing edges,
the garden where your nightmare first begun,
Father slumped, stock-still next to his gun.

I first came across John Berryman's poetry when I bought Helen Vendler's 'Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry'. A few months later the Brierlow Bar Bookstore had a few discount copies of his '77 Dream Songs in stock -  always one for a bargain I snapped up a copy.

After I had read the poems - which even 35 years after their first publication remain vivid, funny and shockingly sad - I did a bit of background research about Berryman and learned of his long struggle with mental illness and alcohol abuse. He committed suicide in 1972 by jumping off Washington Avenue Bridge, Minneapolis close to the University where he worked at the time. His childhood had been disturbed, his  Father shot himself when Berryman was 12 years old; it would appear that the poet was never able to recover from this. Despite a glittering academic career and success as a writer Berryman was dogged by bouts of depression and his suicide though shocking was not entirely unexpected.

Berryman's erudition, wit, self absorption and psychological acumen are, by turns, revealed in this interview by A Alvarez filmed in Dublin in 1967. The poet comes over as simultaneously suffering and insufferable.

I have always feared the edges of things, especially tall bridges over big swirling rivers. I think the fact that I could tap into that fear helped me 'realise' the poem. The poem's biographical nature masks the personal disturbance that sits behind the piece. I don't find it comfortable reading at all, though others seem to appreciate its comedic turn, but then perhaps that is why horror is a travesty. It is sruprising just how many people state in their last 'living will' that they'd like their final journey to be accompanied by the strains of Monty Python's 'Always Look On The Bright Side of Life'. As for me, well just find a big bridge and tip my ashes into the swirling water, 'Thunder Road' playing on your Ipod!



Washington Avenue Bridge, Minneapolis: 'the perfect peace beyond enticing edges'