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2 Poems by Michael Rothenberg |
UP AND DOWN THE MOUNTAIN One, this, moment good as other sun, persimmon-like, flattened top of itself numb little sweat climbing hill out of breath myth good, higher, climb, high top, ridge secondary edge, walk on flattened star thin moon slice. black fog. gold-enameled sun watery gist, Oedipus. where's Oedipus? Sea Nymph got him on that awful island missing future without mind. this way down coyote bush trail. marsh ponds. rose flush gray-green coastal mist. Scylla. Charybdis tiki headlands. wish of young woman conquests. men wheeze in decline. perilous downhill. kiss the gate. now fires going lobster red on licking dish, butter tongue fetish. neon sun on ceiling. females deep in sofa and chair. the moment named DISTRESS SALE INVENTORY Flowers, funeral. corpse double-decker ramp closed until next spring. every day sun follows astronomer's plan ever-sinking into grizzly east burly men and mourning women celebrate infection my wallet's on the dresser, help yourself but leave me something my father died, there's one less voice of approval now the theater seats eclipsed barbarian grunts from silk scarved and bangled women wake little cubs from hippie-dippy sleep black outlines each action, event, wheat, mask does he love? head chatter as she enters club wonders is she thinking of him and they who've taken our place on screen are they love? effigy. tablets erode until only 8 ½ commandments survive. just walking skeletons posting bills unpopular and holy books stacked and dusty trade, buy, sell, new
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