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Jackson Heights

18 Aug

Casually diverse.

The streets are always busy,

quietly active.


~Edward Austin Robertson


12 Jun

Jostled awake by a noise.

A splattering of urine

next to my bedside.


~Edward Austin Robertson


12 Jun

Soaked rocks, moist damp greens

sweating abundantly dispersed

in a vacuum cloud.


~Edward Austin Robertson



12 Jun

Dimples, teeth, skin, figure

lanky, Quebecois speaking Espanol.

Small surf town near Puerta Vallerta

That track she played me

was the height of our intimacy,

the beach party was the low,

as the chicken I had for dinner

suddenly betrayed me.


~Edward Austin Robertson


The Dangers of Driving at Night

25 May

Maybe all it took was a little smoke

a cup of coffee and a 1 am road trip

to really understand Tom Waits’

“Heart of Saturday Night”.


I’ve often felt like 3 AM was a specific sweet spot

for listening to Neil Young

on late night intrastate drives–

the sloppier the production the better.

I once enjoyed those late night excursions.


But those were much safer times.

My mission tonight was to get home undetected

by any potential predator–policeman or otherwise.

Caught in a storm

and each passing 18 wheeler

provided an additional challenge

of avoiding any major splashback

that could result in a wreck.


Its not like I’m afraid to die.

I am not.

But the anxiety of having projects unfinished

or things left unsaid, does get to me sometimes.


Which made this weekend that much sweeter

having had the chance to be reminded

what it is like to spend time

with a woman who was equal parts,

funny, smart, kind and beautiful.


So much I wanted to tell her:

like how being with her is so easy

and that the reason for my silence 

Is that I’m so impressed that she turned out to be

as remarkable of a person as I originally thought she would be.

That I respected her ability to recognize

how unique and how special she really was.


But I certainly could say none of these things

if I didn’t make my destination.


No matter how grumpy tomorrow looked for me

I could still wake up,go to work, and eat my Kolaches

if I survived.

Otherwise, they’d be free game to the investigating authorities

for whomever was brave enough to sweep

the glass off the crushed box of pastries,

and take a huge bite of a sausage puff

without a trace of irony in their face.


But it was too dark.

Too late.

And too rainy to entertain such fantasies.

I’d better focus on the road.

There was another trailer trying to pass on my left.


~Edward Austin Robertson






Humility in Doses

22 Apr

The collective air had been sucked out the town

with the madness now over.

Their team had lost

but their guys were were getting their recognition


A  pleasant weekend of chasing pickup ball

all over town and now we were in the park

enjoying the waning daylight


It was good to see her again–

to finally know there were no grudges held on either side

No doubt I could’ve handled things

with more delicacy and tact.

She was just doing what young women do at that age


We talked for about an hour;

neither of us really saying anything.

Avoiding any past details that led

to touching each other’s faces

early into the night;

caught somewhere between

convenience and necessity,

lust and tenderness,

tepid and cavalier,

wrecking the perception of friendship


I know what I should’ve done

even while I hurriedly packed

running from feeling broken and disappointed.


She looked in good spirits

and that felt good.

But the biggest difference was that I was finally happy.


I hadn’t failed myself after all

And as it turned out I’d left

at exactly the right time–

again and again (soon to be) again


I felt the sudden sense of satisfaction

towards my lovers (all of them).

Happy for all of them

and happy about all of them.

Knowing that they were all the right ones

And knowing that none of them were the right ones.


The chimes from the city clocks went off.

The wind stiffened.

There was about an hour of daylight left.

She and I hugged it out in the middle of the park

before I got in my vehicle and left town.


~Edward Austin Robertson


10 Feb





“Wind Below”

Flip this capital eclipse
Tha vocal tone has got ’em sweatin’ their own apocalypse
Yes, rebel of tha grains stand masterless
Tha masked ones cap one
NAFTA comin’ with tha new disaster
And yes we in wit tha wind an tha plan de Ayala kin
Are comin’ back around again
Tha slave driver saliva, one night power turns
Them devils mouths dry, now Mexico burns
So here they come one by one them killers of the new frontier
Occupy, causin’ fear, come on
Wit the wind
belowWe in wit the wind below
Wit the windFlip this capital eclipse
Them bury life wit IMF shifts, and poison lips
Yo they talk it, while slicin’ our veins yo so mark it
From the FINCAS overseers, to them vultures playin’ markets
She ain’t got nothin’ but weapon and shawl
She is Chol, Tzotzil, Tojolobal, Tzeltal
The tools are her tools, Ejidos and ovaries
She once suffocated, now through a barrel she breathes
She is the wind below
The wind
She is the wind below

And all the shareholders gonna flex, and try ta annex the truth
While the new trust is gonna flex, and cast their image in you
Yeah all the shareholders gonna flex, and try ta annex the truth
And while the new trust tries ta flex, and cast their image in you
And GE is gonna flex and try and annex the truth
And NBC is gonna flex and cast their image in you
And Disney bought the fantasies and piles of eyes
And ABC’s new thrill rides of trials and lies
And while the gut eaters strain to pull the mud from their mouths
They force our ears to go deaf to the screams in the south
But we in wit the wind below!
But we in wit the wind below!
But we in wit the wind below!

~Zack De La Rocha