Author Archives: Robert Hubbard

I am witnessing one of the more interesting outfits a man could wear, being worn, by a man.  A fellow is dressed completely in black except for some turquoise tennis/walking shoes.  The look is so complete.  He has on a little black mask, stretchy and fitted, tailored.  On his left arm is a compression wrapContinue reading “September 6, 2020”

Steady habit draws me back to this place, my chair, my breathing air. This is my room, a good place to go and get out of the house. I am here with a tea and a bagel, my electronic devices, my thoughts and a background of busyness. The radio is still playing, same as anyContinue reading “September 5, 2020”

Why do I have such a hard time sleeping? Why am I making silly mistakes managing my life? (spending too much, drinking too much, eating too many donuts, watching too much television) I am, as many seem now to be, denying the stress I am feeling and wondering why we are screwing up. What doesn’tContinue reading “September 4, 2020”

I have sequestered myself at the office again. I am late arriving because Thursday is my on-line piano lesson. I am not so sure why I continue with the lessons, I never practice much any more. Not having a singing season to attend or the open mic nights has put me off my rhythm inContinue reading “September 3, 2020”

Dash two My everything bagel has been burnt a little bit. My tea is in a bent paper cup and it is too hot. It’s going to be a day. That is not the whole story. All around are other things burning, world wide news-wise. There are confused and hesitant steps toward the future. WhereContinue reading “September 2, 2020”

What is it makes art, art? With the sun down,this low, dusty hill murmurs to quiet.At the tired house where a door hangs, crucified from one half of hinge,you can almost hear thatlight, whispering radio soundsremain within.The helmeted cops are probably,only recently gone on? Outside, almost hidden in heat blistered trees,are petty birds who’ve ceasedContinue reading “A Photograph of St. Aubin Street, July twelve, nine-thirty P.M.”

Start again. I had nothing to do (uh…not true, there was plenty but it wasn’t appealing.) I watched a documentary about Wynn Handman. I never heard of Wynn Handman. Wynn Handman ran a theatre and taught acting (still teaches) in New York City. Oh New York, Oh Greenwich Village, Oh the days…the long gone days.Continue reading “August 25, 2020”

A year ago last night, I swallowed an ancient poison. Out of slow pain, grows each next blunder, submissive sigh. I know well what terror’s counsels be. Crouched low, in a dim light, I followed familiar rhythm. There is no gain, no use, to wonder might I die. I could feel the mirror watching me.Continue reading “A Bar Man Asked, “What’ll It Be?””

Two oh, two oh two oh… another interesting day. There have been many, if you think on it, over the last nearly 70 years. My upcoming birthday (October) has me a bit reflective. This is a milestone, no matter how you examine it. I have turned a corner and, like an iceberg, most of meContinue reading “August 20, 2020”

Poem preview from the new book, I am sending this out to a friend who is at a crossroads (mild). There is no judgement here, no solution, only awareness of something…something new. 3. A Generous Breakfast The visitor looks paused, as if at brink.Maybe, he waits to gather forward motion strengthor considers deep a commonContinue reading “Poetry From ‘Every Dish in the House’”