Robert Gibbons
a mutiny in twenty-twenty
— “I want to do more than teach art, I want to bring art to the community as a whole.”
(Hale Aspacio Woodruff)
Hale, tell us about post impressionisms
a reject with limitations
your use of vivid color
paint as thick as the rhetoric
and if this is not real then what is
more of an incline to emphasize geometric form
as the father sits in front of the casket
with his mouth wide open
the mouth used as voice box
to speak like an antebellum preacher
speak across the fine print
across the broke down system
the plunder of generations
scream guilty murder or insurrection
Hale triage in this hospital ward
the psychological damage for young men that follow art
how do we combine draftsman and printmaker
muralist and shaman into trilogy
but to capitalize on murder in block print
like the study of Cinque’s head for philology
in this mutiny of the Amistad
interpretive treatment of art
the hats become our focal point
we are fascinated that the hats spew
the floor of the courthouse like bullets
the hats become our modern baseball caps
but he an archetype
is at the center of our attention in this drama
in his muscular blue
and the old gold wraps his thighs
acquittal is the curvilinear rhythm
as impressive as his oil
in dialogue with Purvis and Diego
the peon in homage
Hale acquittal in curvilinear rhythms
should we say hallelujah
now that his body has been laid to rest,
now that this ranks him in martyrdom,
we know about the mutiny,
now we should focus on the trial,
the living art being played out before our eyes,
the deception of the paintbrush
the rush to keep us silent
but the brothers make background noise
whisper in the underground folktales
apparent are the lessons
know the difference between uprisings
and rising up
black friday
you come every year
appear as an ad or
sale flyer, you want me to buy,
or try to stand in line
feel bought or sold, cower to an
institution or company sad,
rush after the push and pull,
deplete of energy
but I stand there, like chattel
indigent, bent on consumption
drink your prohibition. I know I
do not need you, yet
I do follow through
to the counter, pay forward
storyboard my clutter, further
with the bric-a-brac
my lack is mind control
told, I sold myself
to the establishment
to wealth management
then, I take it back
and say, I do not need
that.
Robert Anthony Gibbons, a native Floridian came to New York City in 2007 in search of his muse Langston Hughes and found a vibrant contemporary poetry community at the Cornelia Street Cafe, the Green Pavilion, Nomad's Choir, Brownstone Poets, Hydrogen JukeBox, Saturn Series, and Phoenix among other venues. His first book, Close to the Tree, was published by Three Rooms Press in 2012.
He is an Obsidian Fellow (2020), a Cave Canem Fellow (2019-2021) and has received residencies from the Norman Mailer Foundation (2017) and the DISQUIET International Literary Program (2018). In 2018 he completed his MFA at City College. Robert has been published in over thirty literary magazines and in several notable anthologies. Recent publication credits include Peregrine, Expound, Promethean, Turtle Island Quarterly, Killer Whale, and Suisun Valley Review, and the Bronx Memoir Project: Vol. 2 published by the Bronx Council of the Arts. His chapbook Flight was published by Poets Wear Prada (2019). You Almost Home, boy was published by Harlequin Creatures (2019) and his collaboration with Brooklyn based visual artist, Amy Williams, “Some Little Words” was published by 440 Gallery, Brooklyn (2021).