Three Poems

POEM

Did I ever seem the evening sky above
A hollow wasted land, above
An operating table, under
Anesthesia, but still feeling my face’s
Cloven hoof trample dreams, trample over
Lonely distances, trample on the flattened
Heart ever yielding reedy pulse, counting
Backwards I see the future, 10, 9, and so
On until the eyes shut, to nothing, further
On until the eyes open again, further still
Until the eyes shut to nothing.
Not to the mirror, not to the opaque
Approaching cloud, perforated iris
From which no light escapes, I see
Extraction of the gleaming sliver
Bone fragment from my hip
Planted as a graft in empty mouthpink
Roof, providing Firmamental structure
I can smile with, in a way that betrays
Me as the thing made, betrayed
By the gap in my smile, you will know me
By the evening sky above, you know me,
Now look, below. There is nothing there.
Tell me how you feel, flying. I know
Nothing but this sky, nothing but this
Evening, nothing but this
Blessed emptiness.



POEM

Flutehollow
Bone remains of
Once-flown
Seabird, the boreal
Wind passes over & through
Calcite strings yielding
Violintones, purple music.
Martyrs dance, they were
Only asleep as all we see.
Dream of bees.
Dream of mothers.
Seabird, you never
Rest upon living water.



POEM

Tearsurf, glassvale
Water has been
Chilling all day

In a crystal, libation bears itself
Forward to the grim festivity

Head weighs
Sleeping down
On the thumb
Pressure of dreams
Penetrating
Gaps between
Teeth, dinner
Your shoulder &
Your sleeping head
The ocean
Peers
Out to me

Can I speak
Already said words to
You of broken hearts
Tears along shoulder
Tears along highway
Tears along social course
Of night of flock of chickens
& you were happiest playing
With the muscled dog

Beneath white cotton I will
Be alone forever

____
Sam Robinson lives in Massachusetts. His book of new and collected poems, Man with Head Removed, is available now.