20100216

ROCKPILE on the road / 5

Michael Rothenberg


from American Smile
The Jet

The jet is now perceived as a weapon
The boat is now perceived as a weapon
The house, a weapon
The car, a weapon

The tree
The toy
The air

Vehicles for poison, explosives
Film, magazine, song, propaganda

What can’t be used for killing is frivolous

One drop of water is one holy jihad

Seeds of love in your enemy’s heart
Walk away!

Security is perceived as a weapon
Fidelity is perceived as a weapon

Prayer, a weapon
Goddess, a weapon
Vegetarian cuisine
Yoga, a weapon

          Art & religion in the hands of a villain is black magic

Orgasm, a weapon
Nation, a weapon
The tribe, the hive, location is a weapon

Now I’ve got the money to travel beyond time
But no place is safe the weapon is mind



IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH US


It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with tattooed lips, suicide prevention, dragons, cross bones, red stars & sacred hearts. It has nothing to do with us. It has everything to do with pool halls, Irish whiskey, Coca-Cola, the house rules. Local boys grumble, lose quarters in the juke box. Spoons of cappuccino froth at closing time in the Blue Danube Cafe. The Danube, the nearest body of water when Narcissus and Echo go to town

It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with abstraction, connecting lines in a story written as it was meant to be written. It isn't chance. It isn't. It's sky, dance, eye staring into eternity. It has to do with mouths, fingertips. Radio loud up singing. Romantic truth. It has everything to do with youth. Trees. The ones we're imagining. Not those old oaks we saw claw spasmodically in noon heat, branches drenched in green lichen. Fence stumps grown with moss, horses in corrals. It's got to do with morale. Everything to do with something holy: Calistoga, 1992, blue sky day. Mineral springs bubble in the motel swimming pool. Discovery of neck, hands, hair, and foot. Madam Dora, tarot reader, palmist:

OUT TO LUNCH

It's got nothing to do with us

We're only dust. It has to do with stopping the sun. Half-naked on a beach before the prom. Photographs of who we once were.
What do you think of me now?

It has nothing to do with us

It has to do with remembering to forget our desires because they're too painful. And because they’re too beautiful we're afraid to run far. We turn tiny circles around suburban yards. We forget. It has everything to do with things we try to forget. The faint groan, the whispered cry of much too much!

It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with stepping away from burning lips, burning the fringe of everything around us

It has nothing to do with saying yes

Or the smell of us. Or kissing the neck of a disembodied lover

It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with impulse. How it burrows through melting snowfields of our last night. Flushed, you wave goodnight. Lower the drawbridge to your cliff-side house. It has everything to do with a mouse inside our throats, quivering a whisker to find a clear note. Coming back to ourselves. While the mechanism of the cosmos fails. Evolution skips a beat. We retreat!

It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with lust. Coursing through our bodies, shot-full. Thy Kingdom Come, this falling down, rapture on the come. Chrysanthemum. Narcissus in clay pot beside a rose bush

It has nothing to do with us

It has everything to do with all we've seen, heard and felt
It has nothing to do with us

Dogs yelp in the woods, hungry on a hunt
The huntress mired in quicksand...
The arrow never lands

Echo turns to Narcissus
Is this who I am?
She wants to know, before the bog suffocates her

The boy offers his hand

Echo asks, Does this love, death, have anything to do with us?
She takes his hand rather than wait for an answer

Narcissus, never very good with words
grips Echo and murmurs
It has nothing to do with this
He lifts her from the bog
It has everything to do with moments unresolved
Everything to do with us. It must!


It has everything to do with this. They kiss




Michael Rothenberg reading IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH US
at the Aqus Café, Petaluma, CA.





 
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