poems by

Judith R. Robinson

Poetry book, 90 pages, $14 cover price

OUT OF STOCK

ISBN: 978-1-59948-389-4

Released: 2013

Judith R. Robinson

Judith R. Robinson is an editor, teacher, fiction writer and poet. A 1980 summa cum laude graduate of the University of Pittsburgh, she has taught/conducted workshops for the Pittsburgh Public Schools, Allegheny County Library Association, and Osher at Carnegie Mellon University.

She edited Living Inland, 1989, Bennington Press;Wayfarer, 2010 and The Snow falls Up, 2011, Main Street Rag, and worked as a poetry editor and contributor to Osher at Carnegie Mellon University’s Signatures vols. 1, 2, 3, 4, 2001, 03, 06, and 11. She was principal editor of Only the Sea Keeps: Poetry of the Tsunami, 2005, Rupa Publishers, Inc. and Bayeux Arts. In honor of Pittsburgh’s 250th anniversary she co-edited, with Michael Wurster, Along These Rivers: Poetry and Photography from Pittsburgh, 2008.

Judith is the author of The Beautiful Wife and Other Stories, 1996, Aegina Press; and poetry chapbook Dinner Date, 2009, Finishing Line Press.

What the world needs now is more clearheaded, passionate, caring poems. Judith Robinson’s Orange Fire may be just the book as it unfolds a dialogue between the heart, the mind and the reader. Each poem cherishes the wish for simplicity while establishing a force field of energy from felt experience. We all have poetry biases, and this book I believe will appeal to most of them.

Grace Cavalieri
Producer/Host, “The Poet and the Poem
from the Library of Congress.”

AT LANIGAN’S

The body lies
neatly clothed,
the face
powdered as well
as possible, being
so dead now.
Clearly, the soul has fled,
with its grace
and kindness. Now
mourning is somewhere
else too. Not here
with this strange
shell, this imposter.

NINETEEN FIFTY-SIX

hard dirt & stones

around my tree—a telley pole

with lots of jaggy nails

our yard hangs over

US STEEL

it always rains

puddles up the holes

where long gray

worms stretch

even longer

& tiny dragons float

dead at night

i love it when

the sky burns up

no smoke

just orange fire

LOSING THE SUGAR

Yearning comes: a wide, blue tide,
like the Aegean, advancing, invading
a pure white beach,
salt aching to consume sugar.

There is a game going on—
like soft sand and sea tide—
pull/resist, resist/pull,
cycle after cycle of play
& time seems to have a part—

as does wind, bird, & sun.
How much will be taken,
how much surrendered,
before the day itself is lost?

The dipping sun casts
darkness against the pale sand:
one twined shape rising, falling,
the he and she breathing
deep the salt, losing the sugar.

Nothing disturbs the rhythm.
He joins the breeze unleashing
her hair. They consume
and are consumed, folding,
unfolding, folding.

PINK LADY

I reach back
because
you were there
part of the real
swing dancing
part of the innocent
erotic
sweet-knowing
never-doubting
worth-saving
world.
How is it I hear
the music
so clearly
when it was
so abundantly
yours?

Mama, my lipstick is red
my hair is upswept
my favorite shoes
have platforms
when I slide
into the role
of ghost, the delicious
game in which
your time becomes mine
and I can indulge
the parts of me
that long after
the dazzling
parts of you.

What could be better?
To smell like gardenias
wear low-cut black dresses
sip many cocktails,
smoke many Camels;
To never consider
that Martin or Phillip
might wish
more of us than
a kiss and a dance,
a Pink Lady romance;

Mama, we wet our lips
smooth our seams
bat our eyes
live our dreams
with so many men
we dance
the time away
knowing:
how wonderful
to be woman
what glamour tints
the nights,
what splendor gilds
the days….

Oh, Mother, I wonder
why must we
ever wake;
You, laughing woman,
the pinkest lady;
I, your chameleon child
dancing in the shadows.

If you would like to read more of Orange Fire by Judith R. Robinson, order your copy today.