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Robin Behn

Summer 2009

Shatter

By Robin Behn

Anyway, the shattering. It hardly matters of what anymore. The deer have not appeared, though they know with what they rhyme, perfectly and not. Instead, what I got, on the […]

Winter 2001

Ballad in Fall

By Robin Behn

Dear, green branch,   bereft as earth in space, squeezing a little oxygen   from a futile blue place, how can I renege?   The red man already stands aloft […]

Winter 2001

Elegy for Lessons

By Robin Behn

When I have reached the point of no return, I return    to the girl and her indelible mascara of sadness that came from her knowing her fate    and […]

Winter 1999

Still Life

By Robin Behn

Dubuque, Iowa, 1941 There is a train, no, there are train tracks wrapped around the cliff and the train and its I’m-about-to-take-him-off-to-war. They stroll, the two of them. I’ve decided […]