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).