Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Robin C. Pinkman- Three Poems

                  a farewell to Scotland

So they made alan turing eat the poisoned apple 
  then made Elton John a knight after bullying
 went out of fashion  then everything unraveled all
 the way back to the original stitches  and they gave
 up all together  and there's not much left of the
 world as it was  the queen is down to her skivvies,
 out hocking the remaining jewels, with the kings  
 all dead forever  so as it turns out, in the glare of
 history, which undermines especially this overcast
 river of america, where it never seems to rain, these
 denizens of it is what it is, The Final Irrevocable
 Republic exist without too much suffering, or too
 much pleasure, without a single adam to stick out
 its tongue  so what providence will rout the holy
 armada this time? will rout the enigma this time?
  as all our heroes have been contented with tennis
 balls, old wives, and meander in neon tennis shoes
  having never known themselves:
 the undifferentiated issue of an army of
 undifferentiated impulses.

                                   Portland 2014

                    on intrinsic finality

Hot breath of the Gods on my neck like drafts
  In the grave: Chemical, Oleander Eyes,
  And Eternal Green (reflected in plate
  Glass), clinging to a rotted redwood.
  (And) who’s to say?  maybe everything is
  Telling the truth tonight, because if the moon is
  A mechanism, then socrates is
  Somehow still the wisest person anyplace.
  But no, because Man is a mechanism
   And even the wisest of Men are only
  A stranded bare bone shipwrecked shore  and
  (Tonight), even the earth seems in earnest.
  Yet who can prove some unexpected angel’s
  Not appeared to defenestrate a dubious soul?

                                        Sacramento 2012

san jose business park alone
at dusk with the sky

I don’t know what i'm wishing for
  something outlandish and impossible i guess;
 because even the ocean won't take on any of my stain
  and mother birds inspect the work of father birds, and
 fuck them better for their trouble
  and ladies and girls smile with their eyes,
 and sparkle like the black hole at the center
 of everything:
 but i prefer the side door.

                              Portland 2014

Robin C. Pinkman lives and writes in Portland Oregon.

1 comment:

  1. Outstanding passionate and ardor poetry. An eminent sonnet based argument of LIFE.