Book: Title to Pussy Riot
April 22, 2014 from 1:30 - 2:30 PM
This event is co-sponsored by:
API Heritage Month
Staff and faculty can earn PGA/PAA credit for attending
a Foothill Authors Series session.
Authors Series books are available at the Foothill College Bookstore, and can be purchased at a 20% discount.
About the Author:
Doren Robbins has been a teacher of Creative Writing, Poetry, English Composition, Shakespeare, and Multicultural Literature since 1991 at the University of Iowa, UCLA, East Los Angeles Community College, and California State University (Dominguez Hills). Robbins has been awarded three times by the Foothill College Honors Institute for his teaching. Currently, he is Professor of Creative Writing and Literature at Foothill College. Robbins was director of the Foothill College Writers’ Conference 2003, 2006-2008. Robbins will read with two former and one current Foothill College Creative Writers: Lisa Baker, Steven Kineinger, and Christopher Vaquerano.
Turquoise Of Decency by Doren Robbins
What a turquoise of decency van Gogh painted his mother with. What black tree bark strippings he purled and shaped for her hair.
And how he made her smiling stroke back at the brush in spite of what he could not or chose not to remember to fit into
the tilt of her mouth. And how menaced he was already, painting in 1889. What an imperceptible smudge he had already painted himself into. And what ameliorative breast lips the brush and knife
continued to lap each other with. What white mint face oil he sallowed her skin under and conveyed her grounded in her womb of that color, sinking in it, facing out from there.
How humble van Gogh was to have dipped his brushes into the roots of hay and into the palette of a billiard table, and to have cleaned his eyes with a farm worker's apron.
What a noisy cluttered peak he dragged into a field or a whorehouse. And then how inevitable
to finally drink what the wine drank from him, and finally burst and rinse everything turquoise wash his doctor's feet in it, and the other side of his brother's profile, and a spider's abdomen
and his mother's face, in that order. What a corrosive hump with broken teeth he had to keep painting over, and my eyes touch it alongside all of his strokes. What a mother of ripeness he saw
inside an olive trunk or a missing friend's chair. What gratitude van Gogh had. And such a watery green face of his mother emerges on a stem
of powder. What knife slabs he decided not to smooth, and leave it at that.
From The Donkey's Tale, Red Wind Press
Top of page March 24, 2014