{"id":261,"date":"2007-02-09T09:18:24","date_gmt":"2007-02-09T09:18:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/nucleus-import\/?p=261"},"modified":"2007-02-09T09:18:24","modified_gmt":"2007-02-09T09:18:24","slug":"2-poems-by-anthony-john-robbins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/2-poems-by-anthony-john-robbins\/","title":{"rendered":"2 poems by : Anthony John Robbins"},"content":{"rendered":"
null<\/div>\n

\nAnthony John Robbins
\nA native of England, studied English literature at university and taught criticism at the Australian National University before changing tack and entering the business world. During 35 years of professional experience, he has continued reading critically and writing mainly poetry. He is also a translator of business and literary texts. Has three children and likes to cycle and walk in the country around Montevecchia. Now lives in Milan with the Italian poetess Mariella De Santis<\/b>.<\/p>\n

Via Amp\u00e8re <\/b>
\nO love, look not so deep into my eyes,
\n It hurts my heart.
\nLast night was my last night in paradise
\n For we must part.
\nIn Via Amp\u00e8re si sveglia il mercato<\/i>
\nsbadiglia, si stiracchia, sistema le<\/i>
\npiramidi di mele pere arance<\/i>
\ncome se nulla fosse, tutto in<\/i>
\nequilibrio, mentre il mondo mio<\/i>
\ntrema, vacilla, s\u2019inclina, beccheggia<\/i>.
\nTonight is my first night after the last
\n To still my heart.
\nO love, live not so deep inside my mind,
\n For we must part.<\/p>\n

\nWaiting<\/b>
\n(after Claudio Lombardi<\/i>)
\nI left the door ajar for you
\nthinking you might drop by
\njust push it gently and
\nslipping in murmur a soft hello
\nplease don’t come too early
\nor too late but when to come you’ll know
\nand I’ll know when you’re here
\nand open my arms in welcome
\nmy love my last true love<\/p>\n

The Uses of Sculpture<\/b>
\nIn Northerly parts I thought of tes fesses.
\nI’m sorry, but that was what supervened.
\nSomehow this summed up our separateness,
\nyour coolness, the distance placed between
\nmy pathological passion and its object,
\nhowever reprobate my choice of subject.
\nIn a darkened back room of the classical Ny
\nGlyptotek, I found myself fondling une fesse nue,
\nthe cool, smooth, Carrara buttock of a Bissen
\nnymph – dryad or nereid, I don’t recall. Missing
\nyou brought on this strange communing. I thought, too,
\nof Lowell’s Mania in Buenos Aires ’62:
\nhe’d found his way to calm Republican graves,
\npartly from disgust with the living; waves
\nof horror hit him and his shoes hurt: all night his rest
\nwas cupping his soft palm to Liberty’s stone breast.
\nMinor poets do not have all night and are not mad
\nAs a rule. Still, that marble buttock made me glad.<\/p>\n

\nThe Dealer and the Shrink<\/b> (an Idyll, perhaps)
\n\u2022\tL\u2019amore<\/i>, she said,
\n\u00e8 la carne che sogna<\/i>
\no i sogni incarnati?<\/i>
\nHe scratched his head.
\n Whose daily truck with men is mostly verbal \u2013
\n he trades in silly paper, phone-number figures,
\n while she tries somehow to sort the trees from
\n autism’s silent wood, momently rent by screams \u2013
\n might be forgiven a muddle. You know:
\n the heat of the moment, the haze of engagement.
\n Yet just suppose she says on the sofa
\n Seno and he associates Suck, murmurs<\/i>
\n Cazzo and he (quick as quick) Kiss, whispers
\n Figa and he gasps Fuck, gurgles
\n Come sei grande! and lo, he is
\n or thinks he is. What then? Not much. In any case,
\n Would their fond fleshly bliss be mostly due
\n To love of dreams or dreamy love come true?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Anthony John Robbins A native of England, studied English literature at university and taught criticism at the Australian National University before changing tack and entering the business world.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":546,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[45],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/261"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/546"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=261"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/261\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=261"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=261"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mahmag.org\/archive-english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=261"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}