Who Waits, Who Runs by Robin Stout


  Daido Moriyama, Stray Dog, Misawa, Aomori, 1971  


Robin Stout / Who Waits Who Runs

You say
I am too happy
to be a poet.

You, you ubiquitous
you.
Floating in and out,
in and out
of my poems
like clouds in a blue,
blue sky.

You say
my pain
is more frightened
lamb than wounded
lion.

That I am low
on ink.

And, besides
I don’t dress
right.

That’s what you know.

I am the guy on Atlantic
Avenue with apricot
hair.  I am
the swollen
river, the fifteen-
dollar sandwich.

I am the woman
in head-to-toe
black on a coral
street.
I am the car
stuck
in traffic.

I am the dog
who waits
who runs up
behind you
and sinks
yellow teeth
into the meatiest
part of your
thigh.




(c) Robin Stout 2011





Comments

Tim McFarlane said…
Ooh, nice piece. Tell Robin that I approve!
Paul Behnke said…
Thanks Tim, I will!
emily bell said…
That IS Robin. How can I read more of her work? Has she got a site?
Ariele said…
This is so moving. The imagery is incredible.
Paul Behnke said…
Yes, I'm married to a talented writer!
Paul Behnke said…
And I love Moriyama's photographs!!!