Biography of Robert Leary
I started writing poetry at the age of twenty at the University of Connecticut. At UConn I studied with James Scully and won the Wallace Stevens Award for poetry several times. While there I published poems in the Wormwood Review. Upon graduation I entered Harvard first studying with Richard Tillinghast in the summer. I then was introduced to Robert Lowell, submitted a manuscript and was formally accepted at Harvard to study with Lowell. At Harvard I published poems in the Harvard Advocate. I only recently started writing again for my own entertainment.
Robert Leary Poems
How do you teach someone to love? They sit before you: "I don't feel the way you do". "Of course not" you say…"you have to learn to love… You knew it as a child and lost it like a toy, broken.
The rain growls on the roof, starving, dog chew bones in the gutter. All night the frightened trains gape though the tunnels in my mind
How Like A Bird
How like a bird you are Heroic canary In my heart’s mine Gull hung in the wind
Ode To Artaud
Has the world become so incestually complex that song no longer rhymes that laughter is a sullen gesture to appease another that being unique we're isolated
A Love So Deep....The Alligator And The ...
It was a love so deep inside That in his heart The butterfly doth reside
Death, wait, wait I have more things to do I’ll take care of what’s left of me Just wait, wait, my son’s not ready The boat’s not finished
As if we were planets Waltzing into another universe We sit down to dinner There’s too much smoke between us
A partner’s got to have your back No handshake cloaked handout He’s got to be there Thick or thin
The Road To Erato
I Oh willow like a bird so fair Your hair abloom ignites the air
In the garden You sit upon my book I look you in the eye …receive a pleasant look
As autumn comes let us remember The good that drew us to the other Not the summer so miserably hot Let us remember the leaves that fell
Return To You
I awake having rummaged the blind embodiment of bloodshot credulties beguiling search for clean veins, one stop
Reflections In Carpinteria
Of certain sorrows places come And life is a masquerade I sit alone upon this beach For I too have joined the parade
Death, wait, wait I have more things to do
I’ll take care of what’s left of me
Just wait, wait, my son’s not ready
The boat’s not finished
Horses need to be fed, bridles cleaned.
Death, wait, wait I have more things to see
China waits, the Russian Steppes,
Wars will end and I’ll walk though
The Khyber Pass on my way to you