Two Poems in Igxante: An Ontology

from O at the Edges

O at the Edges

My poems “Ramekin” and “Windows: A Theology” have been published in the online anthology Igxante: An Ontology. I am grateful to editor Kate Morgan for taking these two pieces.

View original post

I Will Tell You These Secrets

Your touch

is a

soothing

caress

and when

we touch

my heart

beats within

your chest.

I think of you

each morning,

I look for you

each night,

I remember

your embrace

and savor the

memory of my

delight.

How can I express

the power

of my gratitude?

To hold you,

to know that

I am safe,

sheltered from

the pain

of these

memories

that

consume

me.

I look into

your eyes

and see

that you are

not

afraid.

I can never

repay you

for the wonder

you bring,

but I can tell

you these secrets:

you kiss my lips and open my heart

you touch me and awaken my body

you gaze into my eyes and heal

my soul,

and when you hold me,

I am complete.

 

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2019

 

I first posted ‘I Will Tell You These Secrets in August 2016 as an experiment in
the use of VR and video to stage a performance.  As I review the video I can
see what works but I think it lacks maturity.

I’ve revised the poem and re-posted it because it is a heartfelt expression of
love and gratitude.

In the interests of transparency I’ve left the video as part of the post.

What do you think?

 

 

If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope yours is warm and safe.

Rob Goldstein

Our Dolls Die with Us

This is

reality

ersatz

savage:

We live

in fear.

Our

present

is a future

past–

Our dolls

die

with us.

Rob Goldstein November 17, 2018

 

 

 

Centenary

from Centenary

BART Station Bard

I know you’re angry.
So am I.
How could we not be?
Children ripped from their parents,
Concentration camps in Texas.
“I can’t breathe”
“I remember their laughter”
A child-man throwing ugly decrees from his high chair.

But from a high shelf in Europe come watercolor images a century on.
French families fleeing destruction.
Children starving in Yemen.
Corpses of trees standing witness as men follow orders into death.
As we follow our leaders.

They know who we need to hate.
In front of City Hall we are led in chants.
We know the story.
Our indignation gives us the right to hate.
We have worked so hard, but They stole our votes, our climate, our lives.
We will make them pay!
We will come here every night if necessary!
Bearing placards, twisted pictures of an uncrowned King.
A piñata we can beat to death
Until we get our hands…

View original post 176 more words