Jonathan ROBIN Poems

The two divinest things the screen projects,
A buxom beauty who her beau protects.

The two divinest things that man has got,
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“Why do you sprint through the finest print,
signing so much and so much.
Why do you bow to the burning Bush
When Eltsin sins, awaits a putsch
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'What is the cause of the stain on your head,
spreading so much and so much?
Is it war in Afganistan’s red blood bled?
Is it the Baltic, its trammels all shed,
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Fractal interactions weave warp wire
Supporting pattern framework harmonies,
Knit through elastic links whose spiral gyre
Rejects all artificial boundaries,
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Time, slow, sunward goes
past Winter links future Spring
rhyme's glow forward flows
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Why wait for mate when just one part
sufficient to the day may prove,
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