“I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.” -Raymond Carver, “What We Talk About WhenContinue reading “Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow”
Author Archives: Robbie Williford
Brazen Hope
“Hold onto hope if you got it / Don’t let it go for nobody / And they say that dreaming is free / But I wouldn’t care what it costs me” Continue reading “Brazen Hope”
Litany of Fractures
One. If the sound of your voice was the only thing that the people you love the most would hear for the rest of their life, what would you want it to sound like? What would you say? What words would persist no matter the wreckage? There are distinct moments when my mind focuses onContinue reading “Litany of Fractures”
The house builder
“I love you.” Her words to me—some of her last to anybody before she fell into an alive sleep, then stuttering and side-stepping into passing. She held on until she couldn’t anymore. Even though I wasn’t with her when she left, I will carry these words with me to remind myself that loveContinue reading “The house builder”
And isn’t it convenient /
to never get it right / speaking different languages and never learning / our own / well enough to learn someone else’s / I am enthralled / truly in love with / the way you say you love me / without knowing my love / without knowing / without me loving you too / andContinue reading “And isn’t it convenient /”
On Being a Writer.
In an interview with Studs Terkel in December of 1961, James Baldwin is quoted saying “… education demands a certain daring, a certain independence of mind. You have to teach some people to think; and in order to teach some people to think, you have to teach them to think about everything. There mustn’t be somethingContinue reading “On Being a Writer.”
the year of undoing.
the year of learning how to forget / how to be and only be / whoever it is / i’ve been / trying to be / even with all of this undoing. there are mountains of grace waiting / for me / at the bottom of my heart / waiting to be given out /Continue reading “the year of undoing.”
This mind
its tactful complexities come to the surface to see how much sunlight it can gather. Taking root, it convinces me that every plane I get on will only touch down in pieces, scattered across plains where nobody exists. It reminds me of how human I am when death takes someone away from their lives andContinue reading “This mind”
To Charlotte: Part One
The person, not the city. To be read when you’re ready, which I recognize you won’t know until you know. This is part one of the X amount of letters I’ll write you between now and forever. Spreading ashes like memories across a lifetime of lifting heavy things so Charlotte has a well-lit path toContinue reading “To Charlotte: Part One”
A letter to my father
In the span of five months, a friend of mine passed away at 27 and my grandmother passed away at 93. Ever since then I’ve faced this sort of undeniable truth that we all will turn to dust at some point. All living things don’t live forever–some live longer than others, some sooner than most–andContinue reading “A letter to my father”
