Anselm Berrigan
'Neath the subservient field
New Poems From the USA


I could write a poem about
              all the movies I was killed in.
              I was hoping my image would do it for me:
                       kill me off while I strolled through
                                         the honest spin cycle.
                       I thought if we were dumbs
                            we both would have known about it.
        Snips. Oh God.
              if I lied but someone fed me the lie
                       it was just one of many.
                                    Usually I don’t have to.
                                 The presumed impaling bears signatures,
                   sunk treasure blowing prices into yr. crib.
                        The carpool on your side.
                           The misunderstanding for sale.
                         The what you’ve been smoking
                                 on display in the yard.
                                      Fermented attraction
                         built to lack, which
                                 in the common laugh
                             I’m just saying it stalks me.
                                 I will make the wrong choices
                  they will look right to the majority not looking
                                      Thwarted attrition
                     You sleep in basement as I am
                        a screamer. What if a chilling
              second ending was sorry, out of
                  faking it, amstel light, a great
              limited warranty like winning
                   this head on a game show.
                       The talkable anything.
                     Putting together a top notch team.
                       Notice the pome as outlawed.
                     Separatist banjos failed in a key part
                       of the body. Naked bambi
                             hunts a fraud. Step away
                      from the cupcakes. Gather just gas.