Robinson Poem by Weldon Kees


Rating: 3.0

The dog stops barking after Robinson has gone.
His act is over. The world is a gray world,
Not without violence, and he kicks under the grand piano,
The nightmare chase well under way.

The mirror from Mexico, stuck to the wall,
Reflects nothing at all. The glass is black.
Robinson alone provides the image Robinsonian.

Which is all of the room--walls, curtains,
Shelves, bed, the tinted photograph of Robinson's first wife,
Rugs, vases panatelas in a humidor.
They would fill the room if Robinson came in.

The pages in the books are blank,
The books that Robinson has read. That is his favorite chair,
Or where the chair would be if Robinson were here.

All day the phone rings. It could be Robinson
Calling. It never rings when he is here.

Outside, white buildings yellow in the sun.
Outside, the birds circle continuously
Where trees are actual and take no holiday.

michael walker. 29 July 2019

I like the portrait of Kees' alter ego, Robinson. witty in places, 'All day the phone rings. It could be Robinson/ Calling. It never rings when he is here'.

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M Asim Nehal 24 February 2019

A touchy poem nicely written.10+++

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Marc Isaac Potter 31 May 2010

Weldon Kees is an wise poet. His poems have been with me for a long time.

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Jerry Buckley 22 March 2010

wow......haunting.....Gothic....Is that my reflection in the mirror?

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Weldon Kees

Weldon Kees

Nebraska / United States
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