Raster. Jaargang 5(1971-1972)– [tijdschrift] Raster– Auteursrechtelijk beschermd Vorige Volgende [pagina 429] [p. 429] Jerome Rothenberg from ‘Poland/1931’ The Steward's Testimony master-of-the-household fat old jew called baal the old kings' name his fingers blossomed in the earth dark flowers covered the bannisters women in white kerchiefs running to cut them loose he was suffering from exhaustion having kicked hell out of her sides the night before his teeth had cracked against the firm white buttocks crying ‘power’ ‘power’ had tried to spread the cheeks apart make the double entry in god's name or by names hidden & lost a man might die to know the secret of he spit against the hole quivered was waiting for her hand to find him ‘how i do love thee, becky sweet rebekkah rifkeh descended from a line of lublin rabbis rose of the dispersion yuh-buh-buh-buh-bum’ the sight of his own penis made him sick [pagina 430] [p. 430] a swollen toad it squatted on his belly it was toothless it puffed & trembled her hand closed around it like a goose's neck licked its red mouth with her cowtongue mumbled ‘bridegroom’ ‘pig's balls’ ‘little lamp of love’ hossana! the first busload of campers was leaving for the woods around him eyes watched from the house's open sides schoolboys broke in flattened their palms against his ass & pressed him down the bride nibbled their earlocks pulled the kerchiefs from their necks beat her own head against the wall the gilded paper fell off in strips the glass case splintered sending a smell of spices through the room the glimmer of his riches silver candlesticks cups candelabra beakers vales crystal colored glass an umbrella with a silver handle happiness had come to the home of the timber merchant humming the eighteen benedictions he entered numerals in ledgers fingered his spent cock maddened by his dream of a northern forest [pagina 431] [p. 431] lumberyards not synagogues were where he worshipped trains run by german engineers led to his ark ‘the wilderness’ the buzz of saws to witness a new kabbala whirred in his ears the young bride wrapped a kerchief over his shrunken balls before he stopped her stuffed her hole with meat naked they raced down hallways plundered her father's holy relics pieces of amber on which the long dead maggid of kozhenitz had said prayers fragments of black sugar which had touched the lips of the saintly grandfather of shpoleh dried herbs parchment strings of wolves' teeth black devil-fingers girdles of remnant strips blessed oil from the holy city of safad in the holy land they smeared on their bodies or drank his grey beard feil on his chest a prayershawl across his belly worms sang psalms from his navel the folds of loose fat hung like dough his penis drew back & vanished redemption was his name for it in our larders (hidden) i would watch them tearing the raw [pagina 432] [p. 432] flesh they caught a calf & butchered it smearing themselves with blood & fat (he would drink the residue called ‘life’) stuck chickenfeathers to their thighs & screamed like crows not like an old man & his bride the timber merchant drew heat from the law at night he saw a mooncalf heard distant trains push toward silesia bought sausage from the gentiles would drop it in the sabbath pots or break into the synagogue & steal the prepuces of new-born infants paradise was on the road to lomza a tavern where the gentiles danced for him young girls opened their blouses & stood naked would hold their breasts up to his lips nipples the shape of acorns apple-colored mushrooms between their legs ‘how i adore defilement’ he would cry & daub his phylacteries with goat-shit later they washed his beard with kvass the odors slid into his nose & made him choke the way home frightened him he heard voices speaking turkish coins rolled helplessly from his pockets & crossed the road he found the back door open in the pantry skirts above her hips [pagina 433] [p. 433] the housemaid sat eyes blinded the young bride's head moved slowly in her lap a dead song dribbled from the timber merchant's gums he blessed the walls but couldn't find his stick his skullcap fell into the coup the broom had grown a mouth teeth he didn't know were biting him sobbing he learned to fly would later become an owl companion for the grandmothers in the woods ‘redeemed’ ‘redeemed’ the timber merchant cried bandits & martyrs were dancing with the moon they hailed him as their king but homesick in his wilderness transfigured or crushed flowering or awash his fingers tore at his belly mangled the folds of flesh the dark wounds blossomed he visited the wooded shrines around the town & raged there would make up names to suit himself ‘master-of-the-household’ ‘cat’ ‘fat face’ ‘blossomer’ ‘the stump’ ‘the swallower of millions’ Vorige Volgende
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