Alven L. Robinson

Alven L. Robinson Poems

Sweat drenched, sucking air,
Crowds screaming Xanax fare - -
A game that's all, composite leather ball,
Not Campion Hall - - just round, pebble ground
...

Who waits for me? And why for me to wait?
The Gate swings a pearl door - the beckoning,
Perhaps a fate.
Alas, the ancient gods, the ghostly hands,
...

The bamboo feels the wind and bends
a harmony transcends
the temple of it home
the grove residing on its own
...

The colored pills,

the silent wills of mood,
...

Two old Navajo
on a bench
changing slowly
with the leaves
...

Branches broken
unspoken words
tokens of what remains - -
the games played, time delayed
...

Hemlock walked away
into the pale blue
and scarlet grays of winter afternoons
...

Dry rains of lost time
no one knows your sound
no one hears your voice
...

He looked across the grays and blues
of odysseys and crescent moons
into a distance simplified
with fewer words less sanctified
...

Turtle clocks watch
the hours sent,
withered fingers bent,
curved, a crescent moon
...

The morning light turns gray to gold,
And as she wakes
The desert shapes
Begin their dance and flow.
...

Black bird of prayer upon the sand
half buried in twilight
half free to roam eternity
on streams of wingless flight.
...

No malice in the wave
just circumstance -
butter on the toast
beneath the red and green,
...

Across the evening dew
the mask prevailed,
as if the dripping
blue of souls was
...

The Seurat of the mind,
suggestions, impressions,
monad moments on
empty space, color
...

The world of dreams
sometimes gone
sometimes a forgotten song
replayed as if today
...

An opium tale - -
the trail across the golden dunes
landscape lagoons for caravans
trading in the henna hands
...

Stars find the waters deep
and eyes of passion cry,
but there upon the corner
in the languid evening air,
...

Black it fell, the night
upon the snow; it was deep,
deeper than the thought
hovering above the ridge
...

The cliff was there
before my I,
waiting for a friend;
a patient wall
...

The Best Poem Of Alven L. Robinson

Michael Jordan Rules

Sweat drenched, sucking air,
Crowds screaming Xanax fare - -
A game that's all, composite leather ball,
Not Campion Hall - - just round, pebble ground
For grip, hurtled through the space,
Elliptical grace at Newton's pace,
Headed toward a "basket" - - orange ringed
Opponent's casket - - but with a net,
A hole in it, somewhere in the Infinite,
Dropping through to touch the ground,
An alto sound to open jaws, circus applause - -
Hoorahs! ! - - natural laws or merely chance?
Leucippus circumstance, necessity as rule?
Kepler's velocity a tool? But for what cause?
What purpose for the shot?
What goal that can't be bought? - -

Michael Jordan, he would know,
A deity can purpose show
The reason cause is spent, in space/time
Increments, like on the clock - - 24 seconds
To the fan - - beer and popcorn held in hand,
An eternity at 93 a piece, in $350 seats,
Without the ball, without a quantum theory,
No particles to query, just a series of events,
Mind in collected tents, phenomena
Finitely bent - - the poetry in motion - -
Continuity devotion for the stars,
Both great and small, galaxies and salaries
Large enough to fall, into black holes
Or free throws, or Kantian woes on matters a priori,
When the buzzer finally sounds
And all is bathed in glory.

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