The taxi sat in the street below the window. Jacob knew the meter was running, but he still could not pick up his bags and open the door, then close it behind him and stagger his suitcase and trunk down the four flights to the exit and the taxi. He wanted Irene, his mother, to … Continue reading One of the Ways to Say So-Long
Perry was showered and ready for a Montana Cowboy Saturday Night of wild women, sweet liquor and the usual paraphernalia of a Montana Cowboy Saturday night. Unfortunately, Perry’s idea of what a Cowboy Saturday Night should consist of and his execution of that idea never seemed to coincide. Much to Perry’s frustration, one beer was … Continue reading When the Ginger Beer is All Drunk Up.
He was looking down at her mailbox, at the address there, nodding his head the way a person does who has found what he is looking for and now has no idea what he is going to do with it. At first Joanie thought he was just some tramp who had wandered a bit far … Continue reading Home is Where
O that rascal with his tassels, his garnishery and frilly finery O, curse the flouncery of his filigree, O, that rascal and his tassels. He wooed dear Gladys with his foppery; with sly coxcomb pompery he flirted his ruffling tassels; with brazen foofaraw doodaddery he pawned on my Gladys castles. With eyelash tassel moonery that … Continue reading O That Rascal with his Tassels
For every blue, a craving burns orange; for every violet, flames a yellow desire; in every hot heart smolders embers of emerald. And every white hunger ashes a black want.
Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
“I am surprised not to see Diane Bill’s picture here,” Phil said. He stood in front of one of the glass front cabinets that Derby Milicance had placed against the wall of his living room. He said it loudly because he was speaking to Derby who was in the kitchen checking the casserole and putting … Continue reading The Quest is the Acquisition
As I watch today’s changing sky, I am surprised to understand how little it reminds me of your eyes. If you expect more of me or this poem— perhaps that I should see, in that blue and changeling gray, some vast reflection of steady you, or that this poem should tell how love finds memory … Continue reading Contemplating Blue
Listen, Irene. If I was just playing him, do you think I’d be out here in this walking the dogs? Jesus! If I were just playing, I’d be trailer trashing south for Arizona instead of here in winter walking his goddamned dogs. I made a commitment on him—even if he is tardy on that himself. … Continue reading Andi Finally Ballistics her Future MIL
Lee Robison's poem "Love Has No Moon" to appear in anthology.