I thought I heard thepoet sing, the chanteuseand the preacher, too.Harmonic moments, I supposed,held music that had much to dowith love. I posited love’s point might bewhere song and heart collide,far from me, a mystery, beyond, below, above, outside, forunder my researching lens,the heart turns into meatthat only electricity canever urge to beat.
Author Archives: Robert Hubbard
The Finch
I saw one Finch dressed sweet grey,belly puffed white,face of crisp dark charcoal,today. The wholeof some minutes,I watched the birdclutch a nervous branchof nature’s nondescript tree,ten feet from me. I did not know the birdas an individual,its self and shadow newto me,but the imageof all fast beating heartsand warm plumagesoftened any brutalsuffering.For a paused moment,IContinue reading “The Finch”
Who Is The Foolish One?
With typical obfuscation of fact,though no sea is near,we call these sea-birdswho drop sudden witha satisfying, compact splashthenreappear,shaking water from wingto flap upwards again. It is one final feast day on the greatlake and cooling shallows reappearwhere choking boats recent were. Summer has reached horizon,making the vast water and all elseapprehensive,yetappetizer fishswim easy. Why? AreContinue reading “Who Is The Foolish One?”
Baby And Bassinet
I dreamed that, as day roseabove the window-sill,an old clock radiodanced to life,spilledbad news,wokemeup. I lay then in bedsome minuteswhenI had an idea formaking a film, soI made a semi- rectanglewith both hands,the way directors doand looked through.. The scenewas of a baby comfortable,awake, but not distressedin a basinet, foreground. A landline telephone was ringing.Continue reading “Baby And Bassinet”
The Anti-gravity Tie
Each face dissolves at last to dust then,from graven images alone,the fabled person rises,elusive jinn of anecdotal lamps,set smoking by a reminiscing hand. Dear Grandad dwells in black and white,his tie,right angled on stiff breeze,defies staunch gravity and will,until the chemicals of capturerelease, becoming again sand. The sphinx who conjures Pharaoh’s day,with both pawsweighted byContinue reading “The Anti-gravity Tie”
A Lesson Of Autumn
Gained knowledge informs thewindow view, ordinarily pastoral. Experience sees,what a ‘mime-boundary’reveals,the transparency itself is glass,the shadowing, heavy clouds are vapour. Horizontal leavesare known to beafloat on fast moving gas. Comforts of a well-lit roomseparatefrom cascading lastleaves of the year. Thoseyellowed, browned, reddenedwitnessesend,are blown to their death,battered toward decay, by gusted howlingthatvacates thenorthad nauseum. This isContinue reading “A Lesson Of Autumn”
Netflix and Squirrels
Reflections on a Netflix documentary about David Geffen Such brilliant sun as today’s casts a shadow of one telephone pole onto and across the rooftop next door. It is a cameo of telephone pole, street light and connecting wires projected on the roof. Where pole-shadow intersects the boundary created by roof-peak, I see a squirrel.Continue reading “Netflix and Squirrels”
The Invention of Plastic
I’ll betcave men caughtan extra forty winks,said, “Hell with it..”a time or two sincethe breakfast firewas a bitch tolightand there was no mortgage due,nothingof dire import more to dothan sleep until the sleepingwas through. Ours isartful actand very much ado,about the same old nothings;finding food and shelter,reproducing, too. Modern life’s accomplishedwith a, “Git ‘er done..”attitudeandContinue reading “The Invention of Plastic”
Pussy Cats, Candy Crush and Angry Birds
Have you noticed, I have, that politics are poison? A poison made more deadly by the delivery device? Yeah? Why? I think I know why and I think I know a lot of other illusory stuff, too. I am pretty smart. I am smart like a TV or a phone. Today, everyone has an opinionContinue reading “Pussy Cats, Candy Crush and Angry Birds”
These are the Days
‘These are the days, my friends,these are the days.’ – Philip Glass This is the day, my friend,this is the only day,the solitary timefor you to readwhat I haveto say. This is the minute,it is youandI. You cannot hear much screaming.from the place whereI sit writing, so nothing proves thatsomewhere, sevenbillion otherscenesexist. In the placeContinue reading “These are the Days”
Robert On The Air 