Tuesday, December 06, 2011
Atternen Jew, a fragment
I haven't been posting much poetry lately because, sadly, if I post it here, most poetry journals consider it "published" and won't accept it as a submission. I consider that kind of policy objectionable and archaic, since, except for the very few, and I do mean VERY few widely read personal poetry blogs (that's an oxymoron, eh?), being published in a peer-reviewed journal is a completely different thing than posting to a personal blog. For all you journal editors reading this post, you need to change your policies today!
Ecchh (to quote Gurdjieff).
Anyway, here's an excerpt from something I'm editing right now, both in stevespell and below that, in normspell!!
The setting is 70 CE, Jerusalem is burning, and our hero is trapped by the Roman siege.
So thaer I wer, a messij a the Lor
Fleeyen frum the bernen Howzez a God.
Like Addom, az he stumbel thru the gaets ov Aden
Benum with exxess ov pannek an reproech;
Not aenjelz but annammel hedded men
Garden the gaets bak tu my Aden.
I heerz that the saje Zakkiy eskapen,
Hid in a koffen. That touk a plan.
Me, in the frenzeeyen aro an flame,
I goez tu leep frum a parappet,
A killen mysellz an dun with it.
An thaer! a bernen seej towwer.
I thro myselv intu the krumblen hulk,
Kliem down its ladderz an leep az it kollaps.
I muss hav loukt like a flamen demen
Flyen owt ov a piller a fiyer.
Soeljerz skatter. Sinjd an soutee
Az a blaksmiths help, I stumbel an tumbel
Down the skorcht Jerrusallem hilz.
So there I were, a messenger of the Lord
Fleeing from the burning House of God.
Like Adam, as he stumbled thru the gates of Eden
Benumbed with excess of panic and reproach.
Not angels but animal headed men
Guarding the gates back to my Eden.
I heard that the sage Zakkai escaped,
Hid in a coffin. That took a plan.
Me, in the frenzy of arrow and flame,
I goes to leap from a parapet,
To kill myself and done with it.
And there! a burning siege tower.
I throw myself into the crumbling hulk,
Climb down its ladders and leap as it collapses.
I must have looked like a flaming demon
Flying out of a pillar a fire.
Soldiers scatter. Singed and sooty
As a blacksmiths helper, I stumble and tumble
Down the scorched Jerusalem hills.