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Some Civil War guy

in 1863 wrote:


Martha, I have seen

the dog

'n pony

show

and I

can't watch

no more.


Me neither.

I know

the feeling.

Especially

blue

vs.

gray.

I know

the blood

don't matter.

The air

is out

of the

balloon.


You can call

customer service.

But I doubt

they answer

the phone.

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blue fan whirring

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(No Title)
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Robert Mil...

Robert Milby, of Florida, NY is Calling All Poets' Secretary, A co-host, and recruiter. He has been reading his work in public since early 1995.
He has supported and read with CAPs since the series first reading in March, 1999 with Founder, Jim Eve.
Milby has 2 books, 6 chapbooks published since 1998, 2 books since 2007, and two cds of his poems since 2004.
He hosts 4 other poetry readings in the Hudson Valley, including the 3rd Saturdays poetry series at Mudd Puddle Cafe, down Main Street in New Paltz from The Roost.
Each October, since 2003, Milby and HV Performance Artist Carl Welden, who plays Theremin, haunt the Hudson Valley as Theremin Ghosts! an unusual poetry and sound performance.

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Live @ Tract 187, West End Lounge, 9/13/16

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Family Ties

Dysfunctional families splinter

and members go their own way.

The distance between them immeasurable.

Children have a love hate relationship

with their parents and each other.

Time goes by, parents die

and the siblings gather to say their goodbyes,

but never come together

or quench their thirst of longing...

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Juxtaposition

A cat stalks a robin
A worms lies above ground
Feline and bird pounce…

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The Cardinal, Late August


Sunrise through the Silver Maples,
caught by Rose of Sharon,
this late August morning.
Meditation on dark roast,
and Summer ghosts,
but the little piper chases
the final sibilant one from
my candle-charmed garret.

The long, searing trail
from July to September,
has grown shorter.
From my table of swooning thought,
I am called by the scarlet emissary,
directing me, not only to his joy at Sunrise,
but contentment that we are not yet clawed
by Winter's frostworks, from where
he and I have often conversed.


-Robert Milby
August 23, 2014

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Featured

The Book Faire


The book faire is a distraction.
Why would I leave an early
Summer morning of soft breezes
through my window;
gentle piano from the radio,
a Blue Jay's rescue from
sentimental memory;
the heavy burden of capturing
the plight of the charmed
and the damned—
rendering these hours of wealth
worthy of my attention,
with half of my life achieved,
to walk into a weekend carnival
of colour, food, and noise;
leaving money—earned from
my strange morning meditation,
for bound collections of ideas
scribed by other minds,
when I have hundreds
in my garret already?
The book faire is my destination.


-Robert Milby
July 2, 2016


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Jazz Is Me

The sax player blows upbeat soulful notes
The bass player punctuates the air with staccato beats
The drummer's drum brushes scratches the skins softly
The trumpeter's muted wa wa's is a stiffled laugh
Accompanying the pianist tickling the ivories.
Fingers snap to the scat and feet stomp ready to romp
Jazz is an exorcism of the mundane
An eclectic at times hectic proliferation
Of improvised mastery of a music artistry
Eclectic as it may be it has always appealed to me.
The greatness of Miles, Coltrane and Count Basie,
Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Dizzy Gillespie
And so very talented more.
Jazz for the rich and the poor
Black and white.
Jazz is me without the blues
Aaahh Blues, that's a whole new poem...

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