____ Commentary: Untitled to a Robyn . May 1982 on July 7, 2025 Behind-the-scenes information intrigues me. I don’t normally do commentary on my own work. What the heck do I know, anyway? It’s a just another opinion and I am not going to fluff it all up. This poem appeared as text in Lost and Found, the title of my 40th anniversary anthology. This image slipped to the surface again. The first thing that comes to mind is the persistence of a piece of paper. Now, I remember the Robyn woman was quick with a laugh, bright eyes, and wonderfully wild hair. She was fun, in a retail print shop, front counter, sort of way. She was the print liaison for the local chapter of the American Diabetes Association. And she was either transferring or being promoted but pretty soon leaving Milwaukee. I was sad. We never did actually go out for coffee, lunch, and I don’t remember if I was able to give her a copy. It has been awhile now. The poem. It was holding the world together. I recently found this sheet in the effects of my younger brother Tom, where he had framed it in an oval mat for some number of decades. Without his persistence I don’t think I’d have a copy at all. Weird, I think. Initially, I didn’t name the piece. I didn’t sign it or date it. I might’ve made 25 or 50 on card stock. It was a two color job. Black. Blue. Ivory card stock of some stipple I can almost name. It was 1982. I had to purchase photo type setting because my first Macintosh was still over six years away. I needed a negative and metal plate with the background screen of the animal art - the designer / photographer / compositor - sadly I do not know. We thank them very much. I’ve never put more into a single poem than this one. Who cares? The feeling still rings my bell. What still rings your bell? That’s where the love is. Ring that bell. Thank you for visiting. Take some time for your self.
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Tuesday, July 8, 2025
Untitled to a Robyn
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