Jerome Rothenberg

Poems and poetics

Heriberto Yépez: from The Empire of Neomemory

Translated from Spanish by Jen Hofer, Christian Nager and Brian Whitener

[Excerpted from the edition published by Chain Links in 2013]

There are Laws: Taking Down the Pantopia

E. Tracy Grinnell: from “body of war / songs” with a note on the process

after Danielle Collobert

the crowds
evisceral subjects         sun-setting
in the sun
clashes waste
                depopulating fray


afraid

 

hurled

 

_____________________

 

                                              the revolt

                                              executed

                                              in spasms

                                              projected

                                              projectiles

                                                                     human or plastic

                                              embraces

 

                                                  shadows grounding

Lisa Robertson: On Form (for Jane Ellison)

in which poems & poetics come together (J.R.)

You could say that form is learning

you can see form take shape

at the coronal suture’s first arcade

it’s explaining it’s appearing

it’s unestranged from enormity’s

prick of a spiny plant like a rose as

experimenting it’s bursting and

usually it’s repeating why is form

Rochelle Owens: Hermaphropoetics/Amorous, for Clayton Eshleman

(hermaphrodite flower)
(hermaphrodite flower)

Unnatural

the opaque energy

tearing the cornea

the eyes

leaking blood

 

blood

of the hermaphrodite

carnal/spiritual

 

A boy with bright red lips

The Lermontov Translations (2): “My Demon” & “New Year’s Poem”

Transcreations from Russian by Jerome Rothenberg & Milos Sovak

[The first installment of the Lermontov translations can be found here. The translations in their final form are dedicated to Milos Sovak, without whom there would have been no chance even to start them. (J.R.)]

 

My Demon

 To line up his evils & yours

is his pleasure black clouds
smoke drifting by.

 

How he loves these ill-fated

storms, this white water,
those oak groves that rattle

 

& roll. Among its sere leaves

a throne planted deep
in the earth unmoving