Forrest Robinson was my American literature teacher at Western Illinois University. I wouldn't admit it then, but he taught me a lot about how you hold yourself up in front of others. I even dug through back issues of poetry magazines to find his older stuff. I still have a copy of his poetry book signed by him.
Three Poems
wind rattles the window pane.
rain falls
I hear the damp north star
footsteps
as the brittleness leaves
silently
in mats of leaves, brown tree trunks
shining
bright in the rain this night of jewels
tiger eyes
burn, as your fingertips
touching mine
gather together
set great oaks threshing
the evergreen to singing.
Alone
Where does the wind go
when the sail falls slack?
A mighty fullness riding waves
cut and folding white foam
casting spray
now hardly leaves a wake.
The sun falls hard and harsh
upon the mirror sea
cloudless
leaving the tall mast, the spars
without the creaking sounds
of stress, of motive.
Where does the wind go, where
does the strong wind go?
(Both poems were published in the First Issue of Mississippi Valley Review, Fall 1971.)
1 comment:
The poem "Three Poems" did not transfer right. I hope to fix it soon...
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