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Joshua Robbins

@joshrobbinswrites

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Poetry & Football | Books: Praise Nothing @uarkpress & Eschatology in Crayon Wax @texasreviewpress | Family posts at @cheerios_at_midnight

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2008 and reading from a manuscript that would later become my first book, Praise Nothing. I’m not sure if the audience was more frighted by the apocalypse poems or the gaunt figure intoning before them. Or the sweatervest. by @joshrobbinswrites

Asked my oldest what was good in his life and he opened up that he was really pretty happy the last few weeks: adding new friends to his group, his learner’s permit, killing it at honors chemistry, working hard to make varsity soccer as a freshman, and on. Then he paused and said, “Oh! You know what?! Chelsea. No games for three weeks! Is that why my life has been so good? And now I’ve gotta get up Saturday and watch that slop again?!” I told him he could give it up, he didn’t have to support Chelsea, that I was sorry for bringing him into this (Chelsea) world. His response, “Well, life is suffering. At least we can do this part together.” by @joshrobbinswrites

For you this morning: one from The Great Poet. by @joshrobbinswrites

Posted without comment. Only that I love you. by @joshrobbinswrites

Art Smith on Wallace Stevens and you. by @joshrobbinswrites

“A can a week, it’s all we ask.” The tagline from Blue Diamond Almonds commercials from the 80s. When I was little, I would see the ad and imagine those farmers drowning in the almonds, helpless and without rescue. It’s the darkness that brainworms and emerges parasitically from the mind when I sit down to write some mornings, my sons yet asleep on the other side of the door, the incohate pulsing of language and rhythm pulling me down into its darkness as I take out my notebook. “Six lines a day, it’s all we ask,” say the poems. “Just six lines a day.” Come on, Lord. by @joshrobbinswrites

I moved to San Antonio, City of Poetry, in the summer of 2013 and Jerry was the first poet I met. I’d decided it was time to get out there to a poetry reading. E gave birth to our second boy shortly after we moved and I had yet to do anything Poetry SA. I didn’t know a soul in the SA poetry community but thought I’d go to the Twig Bookshop and try to meet another poet. Well, Jerry happened to be reading and we’ve been brothers ever since. And I will never forget that December, we had a 3yo and a newborn in a new city where we knew NO ONE and E and I both had the flu and I get a phone call. It was Christmas Eve. No family for states away. It was Jerry on the other end of the line, this guy I’d met once at this bookstore weeks ago: “Hey, I was just calling to see if you were around. I thought I’d bring by some tamales I made.” Forever known as the “Tamales That Saved Christmas.” Jerry is a loyal and unshakeable friend. I’m ever-grateful he’s in my life and for that one day when our paths crossed so randomly at a SA bookstore. Or not so randomly. Love you, brother. Happy birthday.

@gerardrobledowriter
@texasreviewpress
@twig.book.shop
@uiw_creativewriting by @joshrobbinswrites

Two for autumn’s onset, by Father Wright.

Charles Wright: Autumn,” from Country Music; “Autumn Is Visionary, Summer’s the Same Old Stuff,” from Bye-and-Bye by @joshrobbinswrites

First game of the season tomorrow morning. H will captain and play center attacking mid and C will start at center defensive mid. 14yo and 12yo playing against high schoolers. My two boys running the midfield together and my heart may explode with pride over how hard they’ve worked to get here. Come on the Fire!🔥 by @joshrobbinswrites

“Horses at Midnight Without a Moon,” Jack Gilbert, pinned to a bulletin board behind my campus desk. A quiet reminder every morning to begin slowly: “But there’s music in us.” The calm of the morning (I set aside 15min to adjust when I get here, thus this post) before teaching, meetings, soccer coaching, groceries, evening soccer, grading, poems, and the rest. Trying to take better care of myself: more sleep, a new writing schedule, and a little more attention to the life of poetry. “Our spirit persists like a man struggling / through the frozen valley / who suddenly smells flowers / and realizes the snow is melting / out of sight on top of the mountain, / knows that spring has begun.” by @joshrobbinswrites

Reading Candy by @danalbergotti while I wait in line at @thesoccerfactory_sa to snag a new Chelsea jersey on sale. by @joshrobbinswrites

Heading in to teach these as part of today’s Writing as Resistance class readings. We are a small seminar group and they are absolutely eating it up and responding with a unique brilliance. I’ve taught these poems off and on for 25 years (WTF?) and I’m still learning from my students. So looking forward to what they have to say. Onward! by @joshrobbinswrites