JOHN HAFFENDEN
567
suddenly wrote a
Lyric,
my first short poem in many many (sic) years."
The poem was "Her
&
It,"written in one hour of the afternoon,
complete with "8 changes" and originally including this boastful
stanza:
I'm hot these 20 yrs. on his collaborator
in
The Taming of the Shrew
and I know many other things abt him
nobody else understands. I'm hot.
He had some cause to brag: he had done a considerable amount of work
on Shakespeare, was certain of his discoveries in that line, and now
1970 saw them rejuvenescent. Here too was a poem written in heat
which celebrated the fact; it seemed
to
him, after a long lapse in
substantial creativity, uncommonly successful: "Intoxicated with it, I
wrote another, and in the evening two more. Yesterday, two more."
The poems were flowing red-hot as never before, but the poet did not
stop for self-criticism. While inspiration lasted, he seemed to regard the
verses as finished and immaculate, but his self-doubts became evident
when he began to ask friends for their approval of his efforts: "I can't
wait to hear what you think of them. Be candid though, and if you find
any blunders or numb spots for Christ's sake point them out. These
poems aim at nothing short of
perfection
of tone."
Admittedly he had sent out poems before, but they had been as
gifts, without looking for feedback. The danger signs might have been
clear: outwardly overjoyed, inwardly Berryman was prey to dire doubts
about the quality of what he was writing. After some days of helter–
skelter work, he sent a telegram spontaneously to his former student,
Valerie Trueblood: "Telephone me at
11
o'clock tonight. I have been
overworking madly. Men need a break. Flying to Chicago tomorrow to
see you, if you agree." But Valerie Trueblood did not pick up the
telegram for two days. Berryman began drinking heavily, prompted
presumably by great agitation and anxiety about the reception his
poems would meet.
The friends he had applied to were all practising poets in the
forefront of critical opinion. Clearly they would judge by high stan–
dards, especially since Berryman had asked for nothing less. Equally,
however, nothing less than their abject praise would have served his
precarious state of mind. His ambivalence could be perceived, but not
its morbidity. Richard Wilbur recalled:
The arrival of the manuscript was prefaced by a number of telephone
calls from Minneapolis, over a long period of time and the damned-
