Apollo’s Offspring
From amidst the constellations and half moons
come the ideas and questions
that drive us
to worship the elite company
who’ve stripped down the barest
elements of
math, physics, and chemistry,
holding the keys
to the universe.
~Edward Austin Robertson
in their brains.
Spent the sunny afternoon driving around town
looking for a birthday present
for her.
Struggling to curb my enthusiasm.
Looking at what was ahead of me
the period of time that all my favorite poets wrote about
The phase of life where stimulation, excitement and thrills
segue into stability, focus, and domestication
This was probably the happiest time period of my life
but I wasn’t going to admit that to her
or to myself.
Because it was when you let your guard down
that life hit you the hardest
I wasn’t going to get carried away.
If my cumulative experiences have taught me anything,
it was that you never knew what was waiting around for you
around the corner.
I wasn’t going to get caught slipping,
running around town
smiling like shit was sweet.
But I was happy enough.
She asked me to grade our relationship
I said “right now, a 90 percent. Because we still have room to grow.”
She feigned an appalled look,
as if things were perfect,
or that they could ever be.
I knew plenty of couples who would be happy with an 85 average.
I felt like we were the fortunate ones.
We were in a situation of our own choosing
And still free to pursue lots of dreams together
–albeit with very little time to waste.
Not only was 90 a passing grade
But it is considered an A in most of academia
Under the circumstances, a 90 percent was pretty damn phenomenal.
I knew plenty of couples who’d never even hit 90 percent in one day.
~Edward Austin Robertson
Boy Genius
My family (mistakenly) thought I was a genius
because I taught myself to read at the age of four.
I could do my ABC’s in reverse
and knew many of the old testament verses by heart.
My parents convinced me that I was special
and inadvertently did me a disservice.
I wasn’t prepared for encountering the real geniuses
who would outwork me in high school and college.
It took many years to get past the complex I’d developed
believing I was better than everyone, including my parents.
Eventually I’d learn how little I actually knew.
Possibly the first real mark of intelligence that I’ve exhibited.
~Edward Austin Robertson
I.
Were we all born with amnesia?
Trying to recover our
thoughts and our lives,
the meaning behind
the things we do and say,
as we relearn our pasts?
I’m trying to relocate who I was
and who I’ll be.
Seems like we’ve done this
so many times before
and still I keep forgetting.
Please remind me
again,
just once more.
Who am I?
II.
Lost in the vortex of the universe
I can’t help but feel
a sense of vertigo.
There aren’t any landmarks to help me
no breadcrumbs to lead me back home.
Trapped in my neurosis
I see the stranger.
“Who are you?”
I ask.
“Who are YOU?”
He replies.
“Where am I?”
“Where are WE?”
He replies.
“I don’t know.”
“We don’t know”
He says.
Slowly it makes sense
to me that in the
chaos of the world
my life can’t help but be
chaotic.
I’m crazy because
the world is.
Normal doesn’t exist.
Confusing yes,
but also very reassuring.
III.
It was dark.
Lying on my back
I noticed it.
The light dancing atop the water
reflected onto my ceiling.
Twisting, turning, and rotating
giving and receiving
emptying and filling
with no void being left.
Everything came out equal.
I thought about light and time,
sound and vision.
I wondered if energy was its own creator,
moving out and in
creating a push pull effect?
Were we way off?
Thinking too deeply,
placing a limitation
on the essence of “God?”
Could we possibly comprehend
something so great ?
It seemed easier to worship the tiny
and the minute.
What of that spiraling DNA model?
That twisting of light,
color, molecules and atoms–
the building blocks of all objects?
No dichotomy
of the internal and external.
They mirrored each other.
The answer wasn’t out there.
It was in here.
I needed to align myself
and dance with duality.
I had separated myself
when in reality
I was a part of God.
Not apart from God.
IV. Time Devours Itself
I’m simply matter,
atoms comprised in a big mass
filling up space.
A tiny grain
on a white sandy beach.
All of my experiences
everything I know
registers to
about a speck
of dust compared
to the rest of the universe.
The further I venture out
the more I leave behind.
Faces look the same
melting into oblivion together
walking a path with
only my thoughts to accompany me.
What’s left behind
no longer exists.
What’s ahead
is not quite here.
I may accumulate
more possessions
more acquaintances
and more knowledge
but I’ll never
escape the feeling
of the temporary
as certain death awaits me.
I must face it alone.
V. Beneath the Surface
He made sure to close his closet door at night.
going to bed knowing it would open
as soon as he fell asleep.
His dreams took him to deep dark caverns
full of demons and howling ghouls
that reached for his soul
pulling him under.
He’d wake up frowning
confused and distorted
unaware of whether
he was still asleep and dreaming
or awake to reality.
Or was the reality in his dreams
where his fears,guilt and pain lie,
waiting for him in his subconscious?
VI. Infinity and Beyond
Was God him
and everything in between?
And how could he be nothing
in comparison
to everything else?
The whole was equal to
the sum of the parts
and not to accept
one was not to accept any.
He looked up at the
bright innumerable
stars, with many question
but he already knew.
It was the stench of a lie
told to him
his whole life.
Unanswerable questions
followed by
unquestioned answers.
Of all the contradictions
contraposatives
and contraries,
the biggest
infraction
were the questionable
answers
he’d accepted
like a
pig before a trough
of slop.
It poured out
his skull
like wet
rainy
motor oil
on
a cracked sidewalk.
Of all the entities
in the universe
how could
there ever be one
question
or one
answer
more important
than the others?
~Edward Austin Robertson
Consider it a bad trip.
To hell and back.
The black hole
that was her soul.
Humiliation.
Denigration
frustration
manipulation
and revelations.
He was lonely because he had lost himself.
Broken tattered and shattered
holding onto an ideal.
He was torn in two
his shredded psyche
his soul
saw the bursting
girls’ lips
where love was a sweet high breeze
holding the night forever.
Drained
exhausted all possibilities
tried to curb his expectations
in order
to soften his disappointment.
Melted down.
Lost himself to regain himself.
Created a new narrative
the person he once knew
the person he wanted to know.
The idealist
the dreamer
and the screamer.
The romantic realist.
The Machiavellian hippie.
Not just single now,
but a focused bachelor.
~Edward Austin Robertson
Casually diverse.
The streets are always busy,
quietly active.
~Edward Austin Robertson
Jostled awake by a noise.
A splattering of urine
next to my bedside.
~Edward Austin Robertson
Soaked rocks, moist damp greens
sweating abundantly dispersed
in a vacuum cloud.
~Edward Austin Robertson
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
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
Nuclear Polio Vaccination 