I cried out

                  “Take pity,

Whatever you are, man or ghost!”

“Not man, though formerly a man,”

        he says, “I hale from Providence,

                  Rhode Island, a Korean vet.

Once I was a poet, I wrote

                  of bean spasms,

           was anthologised in Fuck You.”

“You’re never Berrigan, that spring

Where all the river of style freezes?”

I ask, awe all over my facials.

“I’m an American

        Primitive,” he says,

“I make up each verse as it comes,

By putting things

                       where they

             have to go.”