Jonathan ROBIN Poems

Helix Handle's genetics unlucky
discovered that mortality may not
survive intact when Alzheimer will plot
with killjoy cancer. However plucky,
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If I was two and twenty,
With soul mate just eighteen,
We'd pleasures taste aplenty
Nor censorship, nor sentry
...

New revolutions
of the world spin an old top
to fresh solutions.
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Reason's season too few seize on
Responses fair. Reaction's treason,
Rhymed or prose, too seldom frees one
Rose thought mind's bees land with ease on.
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Hiss of sizzling log
steams ashes on crackling sparks
beneath smoky fog.
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L’écho gnomique
inspire les fées d’hiver,
lutte antinomique?
...