Ether Sea Projects

About the Book

BerriganA Certain Slant of Sunlight

Ted Berrigan

1988 • 120 pp. • $10.00
ISBN: 9780929022000
Poetry

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Berrigan’s last collection of poems, these were written originally on postcards with drawings by the author; photos of some of the postcards are included. His widow, Alice Notley, has written an introduction in which she characterizes the writing as “a realm of shorter poems, written in a newly freed voice, that drifts among day-book, epigram & lyric, in all literary awareness, describing the feel of a difficult year.”

 

 

About the Author

Ted Berrigan (1934–1983) was the author of more than 20 books, including Bean Spasms, with Ron Padgett and Joe Brainard; Red Wagon; and A Certain Slant of Sunlight. Alice Notley’s numerous collections include In the Pines and Grave of Light, winner of the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize. Anselm Berrigan is the author of Free Cell and many other works. Poet and songwriter Edmund Berrigan is the author of Disarming Matter and, most recently, Glad Stone Children.

Also by Ted Berrigan:
Talking in Tranquility

Excerpt

Yea, though I walk
through the Valley of
the Shadow of Death, I
Shall fear no evil–
for I am a lot more
insane than
This Valley.
A CERTAIN SLANT OF SUNLIGHT
In Africa the wine is cheap, and it is
on St. Mark’s Place too, beneath a white moon.
I’ll go there tomorrow, dark bulk hooded
against what is hurled down at me in my no hat
which is weather : the tall pretty girl in the print dress
under the fur collar of her cloth coat will be standing
by the wire fence where the wild flowers grow not too tall
her eyes will be deep brown and her hair styled 1941 American
will be too; but
I’ll be shattered by then
But now I’m not and can also picture white clouds
impossibly high in blue sky over small boy heartbroken
to be dressed in black knickers, black coat, white shirt,
buster-brown collar, flowing black bow-tie
her hand lightly fallen on his shoulder, faded sunlight falling
across the picture, mother & son, 33 & 7, First Communion Day, 1941–
I’ll go out for a drink with one of my demons tonight
they are dry in Colorado 1980 spring snow.