After Reading Henry’s Fate … and Seeing Tragic Barriers

The introduction to the edition of John Berryman’s Henry’s Fate I have right now is quite interesting in its biographical discussion of Berryman’s tireless writing and academic life. He wrote poems all the time, an almost complete biographical study of Shakespeare … and Christ. And I do not care how it sounds or how I come off … but I think many thinking people, people obsessed with thinking and gaining knowledge and wisdom often cannot allow much else in. This was indeed the case with Berryman and I fear it could be the case with me. There is a pseudo me … the one everyone sees and interacts with … I think the real me is the one I keep well hidden for fear of isolation, alienation, basically not feeling I can just be a part of normal modern life. But I also cannot help the studying, the writing poems daily, doing erasures, writing essays. But I guess what’s crazy for one person is absolutely necessary for another.

Someone mentioned my “tragic barriers” … evidently I am always painting pictures even though that is oddly the time I feel I am the most real … not pseudo. And then someone else mentioned that my new collection of poems is a story with both tragedy and hope … that it is clear the characters in the poems were evolving to a greater truth. And then someone else said this was a more mature and more entertaining collection than the “quirky darkness” of Small Murders. I like that is has been something different to the three who have read the book. I like also that right now my exhaustion is so acute that my eyes are red, dark circles under them … and all this somehow has some uber-awake feeling … I feel at once drugged and unable to function as I feel oddly enlightened and peaceful.

Sometimes I think even a bit ahead … an hour ahead, several minutes … and want to get away as fast as I can. And when I think maybe months ahead I wonder what will be different. Will anything be different? Will I be different? The world? My daily circumstance and geographical location? And with all of this invariably comes a sense of dread. I guess I am cynical. But I know I am not distrusting. And whatever happens will no matter what. There is so much insignificance when we constantly in one way another convince ourselves of so much significance. There are only a few important pillars in life to me … I have only possessed one … and still do. I can only ever hope to see this sooner rather than later … like, before it seems too late and I can’t get over it.

And then maybe everyone is right about me. Maybe I multiply like larvae. Maybe that’s my fate …

Published in: on March 10, 2007 at 4:56 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. … Think Happy Thoughts …

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