Pantoum for David Berman
Arthur Delot-Vilain
What surprises me is the idea that they had urinals back then
It makes museum bathrooms feel a little more sacred
The guard thinks while pissing in the fountain
Bunched panties make a dilettante’s mind look naked
It makes museum bathrooms feel a little more sacred
When they are decorated like the interior of a Polish joke
A dilettante with her panties in a twist will get naked
When the light goes out in a salt-mine-turned-discotheque
When it is decorated like the interior of a Polish joke
Inhabitants will descend to the basement of the Red House
When the light goes out in the salt-mine-turned-discotheque
We put on our translucent blouse
We inhabitants descend to the basement of the Red House
Far away from a Dallas suburb with its own airport
We put on our translucent blouse
And trace the psychosis to its obvious source
Far away from a Dallas suburb with its own airport
It’s time for the land of club soda unbridled
Where the Psychosis River traces its source
Where all the aristocracy is untitled
Lords of the land of club soda unbridled
Lords of the land they call Ectoslavia
The aristocracy is best left untitled
They name half their daughters after Bosnia
Lording it over land in the former Yugoslavia
(Punk died while Milošević was alive)
The other half wonders about Herzegovina
I only want to die in your eyes
Like punk died under Milošević’s eyes
There’s nothing stranger than being a stranger
To the punk you were when you were alive
Every night that won’t happen is a losing wager
There’s nothing stranger than being a stranger
Reading a stranger’s obituary
Every night that won’t happen is a losing wager
just ask Marion Barry
When reading a stranger’s obituary
Don’t forget religion is only found in countries great-grandparents called home
Ask Marion Barry
What he thinks of smoking crack alone
Religion is only found in a home away from home
After three hours of traveling, the punchline is nowhere in sight
Keep smoking crack alone
The unnameable sadness is on your side
On the horizon, the punchline is nowhere in sight
Says the faucet: a ripple is still water
The Unnameable Sadness is in your sigh
All water is classic water
Says the faucet: I wonder
If this water is not for drinking
This water is classic water
I should write unwritten Bible stories for a living
If this water is not for drinking,
We will drink Coca-Cola in solidarity with your father and the people of Colombia.
In the unwritten Bible stories I’m writing
The pederast Allen Ginsberg will still go to Columbia
We will end childhood obesity to spite your father (and Coca-Cola’s actions in Colombia)
There will be clip-on-tie-and-detachable-collar ingenues
The great Allen Ginsberg will still attend Columbia
Screaming “first thought, best thought” in the middle of Manhattan Avenue
You may wear a clip-on tie but you’re no ingenue
When I met you you knew how the West was won
You knew “first thought, best thought” was a silly point of view
And you wore a walkie-talkie but you didn’t have a gun
When I met you I knew you knew how the West was won
Welcome home, there are no shadows in this golden room
Hang up your walkie-talkie and your Connecticut gun
Take off your rented suit and lie down in this rented tomb
God doesn’t cast a shadow in this room
He took flight with Wilbur and Orville
An airplane inside a bottle inside a rented tomb inside the golden days of missing you
Hope springs eternal at the Ruby Ridge Revival
Gliding over central Ohio with Wilbur and Orville
Poetry is easier when I’m ripping someone off
Hope springs eternal at the Ruby Ridge Revival
Servants of Babylon reliving the siege to airs of Seals and Croft
Poetry is easier when I’m paying an homage
Getting lines secondhand feels less lonesome
For your service as Liege of the Vagabond’s Lexicon
You win my prize for best use of bell pepper in a poem
Five years on, the second hand is still all by its lonesome
All we hear on earth is the way you pronounced mirrors
The right way to live rings a bell but never solves the problem
Of loving what’s here but marrying the frontier
All I can hear is how you pronounced mirrors
More dead than alive in the rain in Virginia gorges
Upon reflection, we must make peace with the frontier
Virginia, you are gorgeous
Virginia, you are gorgeous
Your birds take advantage of this season’s low airfares
To fly in the rain over the natural gorges
When I was 17, I banged a dead pigeon collector in an office chair
Birds fly in threes through the actual air
Their Precambrian songs bring a moment of clarity
The security guard is on hour six of not having a chair
And he pictures Marcel Duchamp in the year nineteen-seventeen
I think I need a moment of clarity
The guard thinks while relieving himself in the fountain
Number two of Duchamp’s ready-made seventeen
What should surprise you is the idea that they had urinals at all back then.
Arthur Delot-Vilain is a student at Yale University.
ABOUT THE ART | Interlaced by Natalia Padilla Castellanos, 2025. Natalia Padilla Castellanos is a student at Yale University.
