Jerome Rothenberg

CODA TO A BOOK OF DREAMS

For Robert Kelly

                    [From The Stars in Mindless Space: A Deeper Image.  Later & Uncollected Poems.               In   Progress.]

  

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

 No world more clear

than what we see

in dreams

nor more amazing,

numbers bursting into

stars    & stars

enriching what we learn

when dreaming.

 

It is no more than this,

to sleep & be

the master of the universe,

not to be bound to earth

but gathering a trillion

other worlds,

to count myself

a little king

stepping aside for time.

 

Nothing is measured

that the mind can fathom

waking.  In the way

her body beckons

when you turn to touch her

coming from a black hole

deep in space

& time.  We learn to count

the deeper images

& those still deeper,

gods & angels

dancing on a pin. *               * a chip

 

Before the dream

turns bad

in which a pin* holds                      * a chip

all we know

& all we fear

I stretch out flat

to the Horizon.

I arch above you

like a lid.

I vanish & return.

My name is Death.

 

The word extermination

resonates    nothing

escapes.  The world

itself ends in a time

beyond all time

where time ends

leaving a residue behind

of mindless space

& still more mindless

images    the nightmares

that the mind conceals. *           * reveals

 

To run from time

isn’t a choice,

the stars we see

are overwhelming

& block the view

or bring up images

of light & dark,

a flickering

across the map

of time,

the flow of sand

in dreams.

 

24.ix.17