Point

A.L. Nielsen on Jerome Rothenberg and Christine A Meilicke's Jerome Rothenberg’s Experimental Poetry and Jewish Tradition.

Here's an early Rothenberg poem I've always liked ("always" meaning since 1994 when I first came across the piece in Clayton Eshelman's great little intro for poets volume Novices):

A LITTLE BOY LOST
by Jerome Rothenberg

They took me from the white sun and they
left me in the black sun, left
me to sleep among long rows of overcoats:
I was a city boy lost in the country, a
wound in my hand was all I knew about willows
Can you understand, do you hear the wide
sound of the wind against the cow's
side, and the crickets that run down my
sleeve, crickets full of the night, with
bodies like little black suns? try as I will
there is only this cry in my heart, this cry:
They took me from the white sun, and they
left me in the black sun, and I
have no way of turning now, no door