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Best Famous Jerome Rothenberg Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Jerome Rothenberg poems. This is a select list of the best famous Jerome Rothenberg poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Jerome Rothenberg poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Jerome Rothenberg poems.

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Poems are below...

Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 I kill for pleasure
not for gain.
A man much more than you my hands find knives & flash them.
I am guilty in my works while in their eyes I seek redemption.
I find myself forgotten angry at the thought of bread.
I will not eat my poem(A.
Artaud) much less be raped by it.
I have a home but sit with others shirtless, waiting for the moon to rise.
I am a warrior grown old.
The number on my ticket tells the time.
I seldom wash & wear a string around my throat until it crumbles.
See yourself for love the fool advises & the wise man murmurs Spill it now! Your glass is never empty! I see your arm the color of wild lilacs.
It is not too late for memory.
Days together are like days apart.
Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 I came alive
when things went
I pulled the plug on the reports of sturm & drang When someone signaled I left open what I could not close.
I broke a covenant that was more fierce than murder.
I vent my wrath on animals pretending they will turn divine.
I open up rare certainties that test free will.
I take from animals a place in which the taste of death pours from their mouths & drowns them.
I support a lesser surface.
I draw comfort from the knowledge of their being.
Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 I have tried an altenstil
& dropped it.
My skin is blazing, blazing too the way I see your faces in the glass.
With the circle of the sun behind me I exceed my limits.
My garments are from the beginning & my dwelling place is in my self(J.
Dee) It makes me want to fly the stars below the paradise of poets lost in space.
I am the father of a lie unspoken.
I can make my mind go blank then paw at you my fingers in your mouth.
I think of God when fucking.
Is it wrong to pray without a hat to reject the call to grace? I long to flatter presidents & kings.
I long for manna.
I will be the first to sail for home the last to flaunt my longings.
I will undo my garments & stand before you naked.
In winter I will curse their god & die.
Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 All erasure of pain
is like the contrary of
dust that weighs
dark in my lungs
when I am 
feckless with disgust.
I stroke & poke my loins before they tighten.
My feet stomp fields of color reminding me of something I once knew.
Dying frees the spirit from the mind.
We plod along regardless of the pain.
Soon we grow big & fat.
We stop forgetting, far off from whatever binds us mindlessly to empty space.
Beginning here we reignite desire.
We will surrender what is far from us & call it love.
Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 I am not a native of this palce.
(Yosimasu G.
) nor yet a stranger.
With the rst of you I hunt for shade my boots half off to let the air through.
My head is on my shoulders & is real.
I plant cucumbers twice a year & count the bounty.
Often I read the papers standing.
I am clean & pure.
I carry buckets from the pond more than my arms can bear.
Under a full moon fish appear like flies in amber.
The words of foreigners invade my thoughts.
The hungry hordes surround me wailing through their beards.
My fingers tingle feigning speech.
I havea a feeling that my tongue speaks words because my throat keeps burning.
Written by Jerome Rothenberg | Create an image from this poem


 Link by link
I can disown
no link.
Duncan) I search the passage someone sends & find a missal like a bone.
My hands are white with sweat.
I lay my burden down the ground below me shrinking.
The more my fingers ply these keys the more words daunt me.
I am what a haunt averts, what you who once spoke from my dream no longer tell.
The book is paradise.
An odor is a clue to what was lost.
I seek & speak son of a father with no home or heart.
I bantereed with a friend that there are speeds beyond the speed of light.
I spun around.
the calculus of two plus two, the mystery of false attachments, still persists.
I settled for a lesser light a circumstance found that my words rang true.