Monthly Archives: September 2025

Only Sing: 152 Uncollected Dream Songs by John Berryman (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)

Only Sing: 152 Uncollected Dream Songs by John Berryman (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)

John Berryman’s The Dream Songs are 18 line poem dispatches from a private hell, an interior conversation and a kind of madness that facilitates self-diagnosis and a disturbed concern regarding the nature of racism, lust, literature and life itself. They are often regarded as Berryman’s finest achievement, although I find Berryman’s Sonnets more consistent and accomplished.

Berryman’s original two published books of Dream Songs have previously been compiled as a complete version, although this new gathering pointed me towards Henry’s Fate & Other Poems, a previous posthumous publication I was unaware of, published back in 1977 and containing a sizable selection of works not in the standard volume. 

Shane McCrae is the editor of this new collection, and he explains how an interview with Berryman alerted him to the existence of hundreds of other Dream Songs, prompting him to undertake this project. However, many of the unpublished poems turned out to be drafts or fragments, unfinished work which McCrae has mostly not included, although the book does include some poems not yet expanded to 18 lines, and some that include lines or phrases from other poems. Although I can understand McCrae’s decision to be as invisible, or non-present, as possible, I do feel his choice of arranging the book by the alphabetical order of first line is an abdication of editorial responsibility and brings an inappropriate element of chance procedure into play.

Berryman seemed to have realised these poems would be published in due course and discussed how readers would have to slot them in to the published books as episodes in what McCrae here in his Introduction has decided is an epic. Unfortunately, many of the poems in this new book are rooted to occasion, to dedicatees, events, happenings and deaths; are much more specific in their subject than most of the previously published texts.

Many seem casual and slight, prone to striving for profundity. Or, if that seems harsh, perhaps they are profound poems trying too hard to be flippant and funny, seeking a way to make light of trauma. Sometimes the poems read as a kind of prayer and/or an attempt to provoke the God the poem is addressing. Elsewhere, the tone is often elegiac, but others of the poems feel unfinished, abandoned, unloved and somewhat isolated out of any sequence or order.

Most, of course, contain sparkling lines of repartee or astonishing asides, despite the ongoing issue of Berryman’s character at times speaking in blackface. We know Berryman was not racist (he turned down many jobs in the South because of how blacks were treated there) yet the minstrelsy ventriloquism of Henry still sometimes leaves a sour taste in the mouth, one not totally rinsed away by McCrae’s brief defence of the issue in his statement that Berryman ‘did not allow whiteness to be a default position’ and that ‘Henry’s use of verbal blackface might be off-putting, but it is essential.’

I find Berryman’s writing fascinating, both here and in general, but I have to say that despite occasional fantastic complete poems, many brilliant lines and phrases, some laugh-out-loud self-deprecation by the narrator[s], and plenty of provocative and still topical questioning, the texts here do not accumulate sense and meaning in the way previous Dream Songs do, let alone offer any narrative connections. Rather disappointingly, it feels like an aside or apocryphal excursion, a book mostly for fans, scholars and troubled poets.

Rupert Loydell 16th September 2025

Keeping Time by James Dick (Yew Tree Press)

Keeping Time by James Dick (Yew Tree Press)

You may have come across James Dick as lead singer of the Red Propellers, a band who recreate New York urban dystopia for the UK, all angular riffs and grooves, drones and chimes, underpinning incantatory, sputtering stories full of lowlife, love and sweat.

Keeping Time is a new book of writing, the third in a trilogy of skinny tall stapled pamphlets (I think it’s A4 folded in half lengthways) containing Dick’s what – in Lyrics 2 – is subtitled ‘words   songs   noise poems’. The texts showcase Dick’s continuing freeform and loose-lined associative and imagistic thinking from the word go. The second poem, ‘Not Holding the Centre’, starts with a ‘young server at the food shelter’, then comments on the price of admission to visit the graves of Karl Marx and Brian Jones in Highgate Cemetery (‘tombstone blues’) before the narrator is subjected to Spotify hyping

     the new pop singer

     auto tune at the core

     a dead ringer

     a dead ringer

     for the one before

Verse two offers us a face off between someone ‘in her / Top of the Town / polyester dressing gown’ staring down a ‘grimacing / facially inked / skinhead / swaggering the pavement / towards her’ before moving on to someone’s ‘elderly grandparents / growing skunk’ and a ‘hate crime spree’ in the shopping aisles. We are instructed to ‘debunk stereotypes’ but also told the shooting incident is ‘Modern Tide Filth’. 

The third verse introduces us to a figure ‘dressed all in black’ (well, they would be, wouldn’t they?) who is

     a god of adolescence

     an angel of exile

     a poet of words

     a poet of action

and an example of pain being transferred into beauty, before the poem moves to a series of instructions to the reader: to ‘pursue the obscure’ at ‘the edges of everything’, become ‘a voice a face / for the dispossessed’. Either they or us, perhaps everyone, is ‘not holding the centre’, and we should embrace those edges.

This fragmented group of ideas and characters is typical of Dick’s writing, as is his narrator’s sometime intervention and comment and the occasional use of repetition to emphasise a line. The repetition can be more annoying on the page than when sung, but is also used to good effect in many places, for instance in ‘John Lennon Postage Stamps’.

Here the flicker of images gives us an open fire, a cardboard coffin, ‘the sun and the moon and the stars’, as well as the surreal idea of Saint Francis preaching ‘to the birds / live at the Five Spot’. We get another verse riffing on ‘H & jazz / jazz and H’ before we return to Saint Francis and the fact that

     karma is instant

     karma is instant

     karma is instant

Here, the repetition is contradictory. If it was instant it wouldn’t be happening three times, so the idea is not only reinforced it is, along with the karma, at the very least delayed.

Elsewhere the poems in Keeping Time spend a lot of time in or outside cafés, being astonished and amazed by how unusual and original people are, whether that is a

     Woman

     on a mobility scooter

     shouldering

     an Elvis Presley tote bag

     weaving in and out of

     pedestrians

     off key

     singing One Night of Sin

, ‘a man with a tiny dog / on his shoulder’ or an encounter with an unnamed woman reading The Rainbow which, later in the poem, triggers the memory of ‘a shaft of moonlight shining / on her hand holding his’. These images are less successful when presented in isolation, as in a closing page of ‘Western Haikus’, but mostly Dick is adept at moving through ideas and images at breakneck speed before allowing romance or cynical aside to intervene. Dick is keen on resisting the permanent concerns of ‘Adulation and money’ and the creation of ‘a walled country / whose democracy / is / slipping / slipping / over the horizon’. These earthy, clever poems, feel like part of the resistance.

Rupert Loydell 15th September 2025