Sunday, November 2, 2014

Jerome Rothenberg




UNTITLED POEM

The presence
of the dead
in every
corner
opens now
into a space
of names
& faces
that escape
from time
 
the lonely dead
stare out at us
they learn
to play
a game
& teach us
how to read
the times
before
& after

gathered
in our minds
a faceless
swarm
of the departed
for as far
as we can see
the streets
of Paris
as they were
before

the names
of friends
we share
between us
on the flight
to berlin
other faces
with pale
substance
& grey hair                             (Amirgen White Knee)

a world
of strangers
fathomless
across from us
they sit
& stare out
at the frozen
sky
barometers
of change
the living
& the dead
together

take my hand
in yours
& we will find
a passage
to a world
the mind
remembers
& the heart
can share
the resolution
that the dead man
saves for us
absent a face

18.x.14



from A FURTHER WITNESS

1/

let me
consider
death
or drop it
even now

remembering
the hard
facts
I go down
by steps

into the crypt
nor can I
break
its spell
& linger

the word
tonight
is generation
others
after us

a world
so young
it dazzles
when I stride
its lanes

but cannot
name it
held back
by the ties
that bind

& yet
how silent
are
the young
& hale

the pale
blind
worshippers
among
the graves

for whom
the names & faces
of our dead
will make
no sense

the worlds
we know
will vanish
leaving
scarce a trace

there is
no time
but now
which holds
all times

from which
we look
& see
the future
shutting down



2/
for Diane


writing something
to leave behind
is yet another kind of dream
when I awake I know
there will be no one left
to read it.
IKKYU


immersed
in light
the final
blindness
seals him
shut
his body
crammed
into a moving
car
the future
& the past
colliding
blown apart

I sign
the final
email
who
the others are
unknown
to me
the corners
of my mind
are dark
now
like the universe
itself
unspoken

dropping
from my hand
the book
is not
a ball
of light
the pain
I feel
in leaving
cannot be
your pain
another kind
of dream
invades me

loving you
the way
ahead
the far side
of a wall
arises
newly built
a further
witness
beckons
in the name
of love
as powerful
as this

the present
tense
is all
we have
I count
the days
with you
our fingers
join
& come apart
again
we live
on borrowed
time

words
left behind
the book
inside my dream
too bright
for those
to whom
we write
or speak
& know
when we awake
there will be
no one left
to read it




© Jerome Rothenberg


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