john berryman transfixed by henry on the horrid day he shot 

himself or took poison 1 or the other in body bronze full of

electrical waves and all the whiskey in charlotte WXZT radioplaying classics not lifting him thinking of cashing out of room 8 

yes the summer was hot in chinatown mixed up plenty too she bled him fed him more booze hour by hour as he scripting poems combing through garbage dumps dark alleys salvaging,

looking for wooden ships, mermaids,hypno-erotic ancient oaths

living in the future past and present, knowing better, his belly raw, aching, busted open, spilling blood into a bucket next to his bed

living in a shit hole in the bronx, wallpaper yellow with prints peeling ughly layers of tobacco colored old paper, moldy, wet the notorious 

neon sideways motel 

pauperized, by cockroaches, mosquitos and lice filling his bed, magnified a 1000 times in coterie of a dying brain

henry executed by airwave spies, for being a bully on the airwaves a weak old poet, slandering governments, acusing them of genocide, coruption, anything? henry guilty of everything, something, knowing only something, dying with blood flowing from eyes, nose, ears, head and mouth, executed by a hit squad of asian marines on speed balls

sorrowful red eyed old henry wearing green shoes with broken souls, his  ashes and bones in a prince albert tobacco can mixed with bougainvillea flowers and thorns, a parade with a jazz band playing polka rythmns, unceremoniously buried in a tobacoo can with logos of bearded, red faced ancient british prince, bones scattered, a royal flush on beile street new orleans, transfering henries body to wicker zoo on duchamps birthday, puttin it in gorilla cage to be stomped on allot,

a lovely remembrance, 

fOr mAn & WombmAn kind