Jerome Rothenberg

TWO POEMS FROM DIVAGATIONS

 
divagations (23)
THE TRUTH OF SOLIPSISM

Each one holds a recollection of what he was: a
bush & a bird, a boy & a girl, a mute fish in the
sea.*                                                                                          * (Empedocles of Acragas)
The pavement feels warm to his feet,
his shoulders bearing the weight of the sky, his
chest* the weight* of his heart, still heavy inside          * his breast    * the fate
him.

Pebbles caught between his toes, a mash*                      * a mesh
that covers them, walking with the caution of
a cat.
From here the sea is almost at your door,
the waves remind you of a shadow world, a
purple surge* against a shore that’s nearly black.          * a rise
He walks inside the frame, my mind
surrounds* & holds him.                                                      * astounds
Less is more, enough is too much, either
is the same as or.
Earth’s sweat the sea, earth’s skin
the heave* of mountains, hollow cones of flesh              * the hide
with fire at their core, earth’s hair & teeth
bewilderment.
Bespattered & befuddled, be at peace.
At which the friend explores his inner
landscape, stumbling among stones, the more
to test his vitals, to emerge unsung.*                                 * unstrung
No moment can endure the shock of time*                      * of rhyme
as lost as you, the truth of solipsism turning all
we know to naught.

15.iii.12


divagations (24)
ENOUGH TO TAKE YOU DOWN

Varied the places that he knew, the false
encounters that we lived through.
I extend my hand, and you, unlearning
what was never* real, retreat, your back a                        * ever
ready* target.                                                                           * a steady
All life forever outside moves behind
a bolted door, the voices uppermost* that drift                * almost lost
into the shuttered* room & swirl around you.                  *shattered
We join together in a struggle, seeing
what the water* has washed up, the sewers                       * the slaughter
overflowing, leaving a debris & smell of dying
life.
A sticky surface
clinging to his boots,
raw paper,
brown & red in spots,
a broken cup,
a bag of bones
& blood,
a sculpted head
cracked down the center,
a dead dog, a condom
inside out,
a silver wig,
a smell of death
enough to take you down,
a black hole in your gut
through which the shit
pours freely,
shit on sidewalk, shit
on hands & mouth,
a honey wrap,
effluvium,
a surface
not exactly green,
an ace of spades
thrown down
atop the pile.
I who began to walk,                                                                * so many years    * to talk
before, now stand in front of you & turn to
stone.*                                                                                         * to bone

30.vi.12 

 

Jerome Rothenberg is an internationally known poet with over eighty books of poetry and several assemblages of traditional and avant-garde poetry such as Technicians of the Sacred (Doubleday, University of California) and, with Pierre Joris and Jeffrey Robinson, Poems for the Millennium, volumes 1-3 (University of California). Recent books of poems include Triptych (New Directions), Gematria Complete (Marick), Concealments & Caprichos (Black Widow), and Retrievals: Uncollected & New Poems 1955-2010 (Junction). He is now working on a global anthology of “outsider and subterranean poetry” and, with Heriberto Yépez, Eye of Witness: A Jerome Rothenberg Reader for Black Widow Press. He has until recently been a professor of visual arts and literature at the University of California, San Diego.