Nomadics

My favorite book of poems for 2009 so far. And a long time a-coming. But finally here it is: as close as possible to a Douglas Rothschild “Collected.” The pleasure of Theogony starts in the hand: the square format, perfectly suited to the work, and the pleasant, solid, yet casual heft of its 210 pages. The pleasure goes on in the eye: the cover photograph by Drew Gardner (see above, though that elongated repro doesn’t really do justice to the actual object) playing wistfully with inside & outside, the curtains rhyming with a specific absence that dwarfs or dwarfed the two high rise buildings & their pomo toppings. Sun, yet so much shadow. Light but subdued — is it dawn or dusk?  ———

——— so rudely interrupted
as I have to run to catch
the N train at 36th
to try to make St. Marks
I am late the train is
late too I am irritated the
train is too & apologizes
for being slow so I pull
Theogony out & start to read
with notebook at the
ready now the young Asian
girl next to me takes
her earphones out to listen to
the train’s apologies &
her eyes fall on the
open Theogony & I notice
from the corner of mine
that she keeps reading
& all of a sudden she
smiles & starts to giggle before
putting her hand over
her mouth & turning away
still smiling & chuckling
& that’s the best review
I could never write of
Dug’s book, just then the
train stops at 14th street I
get off walk fast in fading
sun & nearly make it on
time to the Jack Spicer table
ronde no longer worried, in
fact happy, thinking how
great that just now as I move
back to NYC for the
first time since 1972
how great that there is a poet
here as sharp on the city
& as good on us as
my friend Paul Blackburn
was back then and now I’m
here at the Poetry Project
& of course Douglas is
here too listening to
what the West Coast people
have to say in NYC so I
close the notebook &
admire my man’s
suspenders.