When Megan told me she was bored and had nothing to do, I couldn't help but think of a poem I read in my American Literature class. She tapped her "inner resources" and created front-seat covers for her car. Custom-fit, hand crafted covers. And they...look...great...
Dream Song 14
by John Berryman
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) "Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no
Inner Resources." I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
No comments:
Post a Comment