Hollis Robbins
"The view of a beautiful bird will illustrate"
Contemplating beauty Burke proposed
That pleasurable bodies are not composed
Of angular parts. Behold, he said, the dove,
Whose acquiescent breast so gently swells,
The velvet beating reminiscent of
A subtle rhapsody of muffled bells.
Peaceful the idea of beauty melts
Into the air, not seen or heard but felt.
But brooding nature in her bosom knows
Woe to those unschooled in combat arts.
The pleasant Columba of which he speaks,
All quivering and shoulderblades and beaks
Who claws her bars with slaughter in her heart,
Is not as docile as he might suppose.
Acrostic
Perhaps the old brigand had it right
Resisting individuality
Of height. Speaking now poetically,
Consider length. Fit is often tight,
Requiring amputation ne'er polite,
Unless one smiths imaginatively,
Swaging feet to tenuous degree
Till sense succumbs to structure's greater might.
Every poem bears scars of this dispute.
All poets keep a rack and handsaw near.
Not only must each line be cut to suit
But rhyme conform as well to eye or ear.
Each claim that verse comes from the poet's heart
Denies the role of iron cots in art.
Fort/da
Sometimes I imagine that I'm Freud's
Grandson throwing toys across the floor,
Uttering that philosophic roar,
That o-o-o of oneness with the void,
Passing hours pleasurably employed,
Searching every crack and every drawer,
Attentive, tense, but reasonably sure
That they'll be found and I'll be overjoyed.
He would sometimes play it with a string
Tied around a little wooden reel
He'd toss away and then would reel back in.
Isn't it an extraordinary thing?
A little boy can teach himself to feel,
Yet I can't help but feel myself lacking?
Fort/dada
Sometimes I imagine I'm a toy--
The reel thrown out of bed by the boy--
A string attached to keep me close at hand.
It wouldn't do to have me veer away.
The child's brilliant cultural achievement
Was, according to the theory, his command
In mastering the art of delay
By circumscribing where the object went.
But while Freud was seeking thanatos
Hugo Ball was writing Karawane.
A movement was already underway
To cast off meaning in a single toss.
I mastered long ago the art of loss:
No strings attached, my deference slips away.
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Fifth-Anniversary MC Reading
West Chester University Poetry Conference
Friday, June 10
8:15 AM
|
|
|
|
|
 |
| Alice Mizrachi: Growing up in New York, I have been immersed in a culture that is constantly growing. Throughout my work you can feel the influence the city has had on me, the never-ending desire to grow and flow. One common thread in my work is the texture--rhythm and layers. I love to incorporate tactile surfaces that compel the audience to approach and feel it. Timeless and universal, my images evoke a raw feminine energy that leaves you feeling nurtured. My art is a vehicle to express to the world my journey as a NYC female artist in the past, present and future. I am logging my time here. After completing a residency in Paris during 2010, I am focusing on residencies in other cities with the intention of spreading my art globally. | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
