August 2015
I am a middle school teacher in Dallas, Texas. Some of my favorite poets are my students. I am the editor of ATOMIC: a Journal of Short Poetry.
Shipwrecked
I wish we were shipwrecked together,
stranded on a deserted island.
Our futures besieged by the Pacific,
I could finally say,
You mean the world to me.
There would be nowhere I could hide,
and I would smile and thank the scheming ocean.
We would sit on the shore and wait
for the past to engulf us,
letting the whale songs speak for our souls:
What is that sound?
you would say.
What sound?
I would reply,
pretending not to hear.
Two Boys and a Bluebird
Let’s talk about how sometimes the light falls on our faces
at the perfect moment and it doesn’t mean anything at all.
Let’s talk about how our dreams weren’t quite worth it.
Let’s talk about the rain the rain the rain the rain the rain.
Let’s talk about man, you messed that up.
Let’s talk about how it really doesn’t mean anything at all:
a bluebird is singing outside your window,
two boys are laughing because one has fallen,
the bluebird flies away,
the two boys stay.
After this song is over, you will start crying again.
When I say you, I really mean I—
let’s talk about how distance
begets clarity.
Stand back.
Stay back—
the bluebird comes back,
the boys so small in the distance.
After Copland’s Quiet City
It is difficult to remember beginnings:
I am walking alone at night
the ALICO sign is quiet in the distance
I want to say it is seducing me
I want to say I have been seduced
I want to say a seduction is a beginning
I turn around and notice a cat is following me,
darting behind corners trying to remain unseen
I think he is my protector
I think he is my grandfather reincarnated
I thank my grandfather for his protection
and then remember that my grandfather
probably didn’t believe in reincarnation
and that belief is the beginning of existence
my strange familiar grows tired and leaves me
so I continue into the night
like a pilgrim to some tomb
and I remember: we are playing
as two boys do
and suddenly there is something
familiar and new
I suppose
this is not a beginning, but an end
©2015 Warner James Robinson