Category Archives: People
Jaded
Old and jaded says: ‘Been there, done that.’ There is nothing like your first buck, your first fuck, your first love.
Girl Talk
Was the guy you took home last night as good as he looked? Not bad, not bad. So he wasn’t the most exciting one you’ve ever had? Comparisons are odious. Anyway, I’m not running some kind of competition for the … Continue reading
I Thought She Was Trapped
There she was, Phat Man Dee performing at Pittsburgh’s 2004 First Night. She sang “Crazy for You.” She sang “Sunny Side of the Street.” Beautiful voice, black dress, necklaces, jewelry on her forehead, white arms, heels, black boa, over two … Continue reading
In the Presence of the Body that was Ann Hussar
In the presence of the body that was Ann Hussar, one cannot believe; I cannot believe. Although we knew, for months. She knew, for months. It could not be believed. I cannot believe. Even in this room of flowers, hothouse … Continue reading
Mixed Emotions
But I still love him. The third time he beat me I was in the hospital for four days. I’m safe here at the shelter – me and the two kids. He promised me if I didn’t press charges, he’d … Continue reading
Lament for the Symposium
Alas the symposium, drought stricken low. Who thinks from solemnities knowledge will flow? How far will a car without lubricant go? In a desert will perish whatever you sow. Where is the cure for the dry status quo? Wherever seeds … Continue reading
A View of Birmingham Bridge
I come home on the bus from a meeting, We pass the Birmingham Bridge, arching over the Mon river. I don’t run thIis group. I may have helped organize it. The ironworker didn’t design the bridge, didn’t forge the steel. … Continue reading
ICU
ICU: three fearful letters: a fear full place – brightly lit. Why is it so noisy? Why is it so cold? Someone is lying in a hospital bed. Machines and tubes administer ‘meds’. They can help you eat piss, shit, … Continue reading
who am I?
Who Am I? These poems: if you read them you will know as much as I do. This haiku tries to answer the question that begins the haiku collection
Jon Robison Poetry 