Friday, April 15, 2011

Who Waits, Who Runs by Robin Stout


  Daido Moriyama, Stray Dog, Misawa, Aomori, 1971  


Robin Stout / Who Waits Who Runs

You say
I am too happy
to be a poet.

You, you ubiquitous
you.
Floating in and out,
in and out
of my poems
like clouds in a blue,
blue sky.

You say
my pain
is more frightened
lamb than wounded
lion.

That I am low
on ink.

And, besides
I don’t dress
right.

That’s what you know.

I am the guy on Atlantic
Avenue with apricot
hair.  I am
the swollen
river, the fifteen-
dollar sandwich.

I am the woman
in head-to-toe
black on a coral
street.
I am the car
stuck
in traffic.

I am the dog
who waits
who runs up
behind you
and sinks
yellow teeth
into the meatiest
part of your
thigh.




(c) Robin Stout 2011





6 comments:

Tim McFarlane said...

Ooh, nice piece. Tell Robin that I approve!

Paul Behnke said...

Thanks Tim, I will!

emily bell said...

That IS Robin. How can I read more of her work? Has she got a site?

Ariele said...

This is so moving. The imagery is incredible.

Paul Behnke said...

Yes, I'm married to a talented writer!

Paul Behnke said...

And I love Moriyama's photographs!!!