poem index


Ted Berrigan

1934-1983 , Providence , RI , United States
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Ted Berrigan
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Ted Berrigan was born in Providence, Rhode Island, on November 15, 1934. He attended Providence College for a year before joining the army in 1954 at the age of 19. After serving in Korea he received a BA in English from the University of Tulsa in 1959 and an MA in 1962. Berrigan moved to New York in the early 1960s where he edited and published C Magazine and C Press Books, wrote art criticism, and collaborated with writers and artists Ron Padgett, Joe Brainard, and Anselm Hollo.

Berrigan taught at the St. Mark's Poetry Project and was writer-in-residence/visiting poet at the Writer's Workshop at the University of Iowa, the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, Yale University, the State University of New York at Buffalo, University of Essex in England, Northeastern Illinois University, and the Naropa Institute. In 1979 he received a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Berrigan was a central figure in the second generation of the New York School of Poets, which included Ron Padgett, Anne Waldman, Jim Carroll, and Anselm Hollo. He was the author of more than 20 books, including The Sonnets (1964), Bean Spasms (with Ron Padgett and Joe Brainard) (1967), Poems, In Brief (1971), Red Wagon (1976), and A Certain Slant of Sunlight (1988). Ted Berrigan died on July 4, 1983.

A Selected Bibliography


A Certain Slant of Sunlight (1988)
A Feeling for Leaving (1975)
Back in Boston Again (1972)
Bean Spasms (1967)
Carrying a Torch (1980)
Clear the Range (1977)
Great Stories of the Chair (1998)
In a Blue River (1981)
Living with Chris (1965)
Many Happy Returns (1967)
Memorial Day (1971)
NOH (1969)
Nothing for You (1977)
Peace (1969)
Red Wagon (1976)
Selected Poems (1994)
So Going Around Cities: New & Selected Poems 1958-1979 (1980)
Some Things (1966)
The Drunken Boat (1974)
The Sonnets (1964)
Train Ride (1971)
Yo-Yo's with Money (1979)

by this poet

Chicago Morning

To Philip Guston

Under a red face, black velvet shyness
Milking an emaciated gaffer. God lies down
Here. Rattling of a shot, heard
From the first row. The president of the United States
And the Director of the FBI stand over
a dead mule. "Yes, it is nice to hear the fountain
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