Jerome Rothenberg

Poems and poetics

Milton Resnick 1917–2004 / four poems recovered

[Milton Resnick was a very visible and dynamic artist when we met him in the early 1960s, but beyond that he was also a persistent practitioner of poetry, less in a public sense than as a release for ideas and feelings that were a necessary supplement to his life’s work as a painter.

Mikhl Likht, from 'Procession IV'

Proem and Poem [Adam Kadmon], with endnotes

The translation of Likhts “Every New Poet: Proem” will appear in Global Modernists on Modernism, a two-hundred-thousand-word anthology of texts — manifestos, essays, prologues, statements, forewords, letters, etc — by modernists across the arts, with an emphasis on texts that reflect on the theory and/or practice of modernism in a range of national, transnational, indigenous, regional, diasporic, and stateless contexts. 

Translation from Yiddish by Ariel Resnikoff and Stephen Ross


[Every New Poet: Proem]

Janaka Stucky: From 'Ascend Ascend,' a work in progress, with a note by the author

Janaka Stucky: From 'Ascend Ascend'

[Excerpted from Janaka Stucky’s forthcoming book, Ascend Ascend (Third Man Books, April 2019). The accompanying portrait of the author is by photographer Adrianne Mathiowetz.]

[Excerpted from Janaka Stucky’s forthcoming book, Ascend Ascend (Third Man Books, April 2019). The accompanying portrait of the author is by photographer Adrianne Mathiowetz.]


Blessed is the lotus

The day’s bleeding wound


Blessed are the spiders their alphabet

Twenty six stones my corpse is dancing

Clayton Eshleman: For the Night Poem 8 Aug 2010

[N.B.: Writes Eshleman of the poem’s origin and rediscovery: “This poem was written after studying Weston La Barre’s Muellos: A Stone Age Superstition About Sexuality (Columbia University Press, 1985). It is dated 8 August 2010. It will appear in my book Pollen Aria, to be published by Black Widow Press, spring 2019. After writing the poem I forgot about it, and would have lost it had not my Georgian translator Irakli Qolbaia come across it online. How or where he found it I do not know. But he sent it to me and I recognized it as one of my own.”]

Looking into the telescope of the night,

with its vehicular cinders, its naked sea butterflies,

I contemplate the composted humanity

under me, or

of self, so latent as to be a dwarf lantern,

to realize what the male head means in my Sepik layers,

to kill so as to amass souls, soul strength of others,

Mark Weiss: Suite of Dances XXIV

Song of a Leaping Girl

NOTE. A writer of remarkable skills and insights, Weiss has written of the present venture: “I’ve joked before that my work isn’t so much composition by field as composition of field. A Suite of Dances might be composition by notebook.”

Unfolds herself from the chair.


Each line a decision.


“Already the years will pass without me.”


This time of year no nights are green,

Maid Marian.


Lost thoughts