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About this poet

Anselm Berrigan was born in 1972 in Chicago, Illinois. He received a BA from SUNY Buffalo and an MFA from Brooklyn College. He is the son of poets Alice Notley and the late Ted Berrigan.

He is the author of several books of poetry, including Something for Everybody (Wave Books, 2018), Come in Alone (Wave Books, 2016), Notes from Irrelevance (Wave Books, 2011), Free Cell (City Lights Books, 2009), and Integrity and Dramatic Life (Edge, 1999). With Alice Notley and his brother Edmund Berrigan, he coedited The Collected Poems of Ted Berrigan (University of California, 2005) and the Selected Poems of Ted Berrigan (University of California, 2011).

Berrigan was a New York State Foundation for the Arts Fellow in poetry in 2007 and has received threegrants from the Fund for Poetry. From 2003 to 2007, he served as artistic director of The Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church. He is cochair of writing at the Milton Avery Graduate School of the Arts and also teaches writing at Pratt Institute and Brooklyn College. He lives in New York City.


Bibliography

Something for Everybody (Wave Books, 2018)
Come in Alone (Wave Books, 2016)
Notes from Irrelevance (Wave Books, 2011)
Free Cell (City Lights Books, 2009)
Some Notes on My Programming (Edge, 2006)
Zero Star Hotel (Edge, 2002)
Integrity and Dramatic Life (Edge, 1999)

Life Without Rondo

Recordings made when no
one's there, that's what we like.

Too many scraps full of pockets.
We agree, but clause. Always.

A punk rock lunch on sidewalk,
stakesters plummeting from

condimental tips. I'm implying
for jobs by writing you, despite

your sounding Beatles-chafed
echoes of phone aroma carolina

gold. We like it when I writes, not
when we make type. Wondering

where John calls home for brief
bio scrubs on the, the web. "In a bow,

dad." Right. I knew that cadence
picked me up somewhere. It, like

McDonald's, is coming off. Service
interruptions, we like those triple 

bonus mattress sales a lot. Bonus
is a filthy excuse for a word, words.

That's why we torched Jared. It's not
enough to know what things mean

beaten off to the side, fool. Sometimes
you gotta know what things don't mean.

From Something for Everybody. Copyright © 2018 by Anselm Berrigan. Used with the permission of Wave Books.

From Something for Everybody. Copyright © 2018 by Anselm Berrigan. Used with the permission of Wave Books.

Anselm Berrigan

Anselm Berrigan

Anselm Berrigan is the author of five books of poetry, including Notes from Irrelevance (Wave Books, 2011).

by this poet

poem
Things surrounding things
fill my Wicked Tuna grid
 
heart with a swishy austerity-like
intention. I cut my post-fleshy
 
forearms & bleed a serious parallel
echo chamber reading everything
 
to approve of nothing. I massage  
my anterior cruciate ligaments
 
to celebrate a hard won royal flush.
This mind is
poem

Mom: the sweet rotted
summer stench still
taps the nasal cavity
inside breezes several
times per block. I have
a greater empathy for
pigeons after two months
at work in the unnatural 
country, & find it
instinctively nerve-
wracking to remove my
wallet from

poem
Goodness is better than evil	
Becuz it is nicer. I detest your

                                                     Holding me so high in the air
                                                     While I cry fat tears pre-bath
			
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