Friday, July 15, 2011

Rhonda D. Robison and Dickinson

To be still in words. Yet alive. To the right of silence lies what? Either Sapir or Whorf wrote that one might think of a single thing without the interference of words, but the second two are entertained, words inevitably flow. Enter Bergson. Enter entropy. Enter enter. Perhaps sound is the absence of silence. Through the heart of silence, paradoxically, that "Blue--uncertain, stumbling Buzz," seemingly indigenous to it occasion, as is its owner's imposition, poses the one question without an answer. Ever. To anyone. Anywhere. Thus silence. Yet the words keep flowing: "just me and daddy / in a ratty room." Lovely.

(after emily dickinson & a wake)

the push of lack
smacks a blue box
beyond shhhhhhh
cock-eyed to rock 
the body to mush

no dead--really
just me and daddy
in a ratty room
with wacky blooms

a flock of fools
the hush hung on
a thread of being


I heard a fly buzz
                 --Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz--when I died--
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air-- 
Between the Heaves of Storm – 

The Eyes around--had wrung them dry--
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset--when the King
Be witnessed--in the Room-- 

I willed my Keepsakes--Signed away
What portions of me be
Assignable--and then it was
There interposed a Fly--

With Blue – uncertain stumbling Buzz--
Between the light--and me-- 
And then the Windows failed--and then
I could not see to see--


The page her playground, English professor and poet, Rhonda D. Robison., specializes in psychoanalytic theory and language-play. Her poetry has been published in a variety of media, including journals, such as Ekleksographia, Knock 27, Rue de Fleures, and Moondance; a collaborative chapbook, Other Sticky Valentines; and a film, Acadie. Her chapbook, ragbag, is due for publication by Nous-zot Press in summer 2011. Rdr. teaches English courses at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette.


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