Everything turns into writing
Someone is having a birthday
And someone is getting married
And someone is telling a joke
My dream
I dream of the code of the west
But this rough magic required some heavenly music
Which even now—I do
This airy charm …
Bury it several fathoms in the earth
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll bury my book
By Ted Berrigan
Everything turns into writing Someone is having a birthday And someone is getting married And someone is telling a joke My dream
I dream of the code of the west But this rough magic required some heavenly music Which even now—I do This airy charm … Bury it several fathoms in the earth And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll bury my book
It is 5:15am Dear Baby, hello