Five Poems
Sam Robinson
now Icarus has gone swimming and I see him in the Sun
now Icarus has gone swimming and I see him in the Sun
may the little coffee cup
be blown over
a cheap china pattern
blue bulbs
blooms on white
a single cereal bowl
from this set disperses
and appears
in apartment cabinets
all over
“Have you tried hookers?
Church? God? Your dead
mother? Pills? Coke? Crack?”
She began imagining what it might have been like to be Agatha, crying and disheveled with both pale breasts exposed.
In time, the questions become increasingly diffuse, numbers jumble and disappear, the symbolic order smears.
I begin to write a eulogy for
a guy who doesn't exist.
When i stopped remote viewing my wife / we stopped being married
Today I saw a goose stare down an suv and thought of you.
it got to the other side of the road and tore a few feathers out
following me from a table outside the coffee shop to my car.
I think it
Can't spoil what's ahead but suffice to say I may attempt to falsely accuse a fellow indie writer of war crimes in a psychotic bid for even more attention
e.e. is now doing one-on-one manuscript reads and yearlong mentorships/guidance
“I learned how to be a writer through Elizabeth.” -Chloe Caldwell
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
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