Robert Pinsky

As I began my collaborations, Robert graciously agreed. The orderliness of his handwriting, his poise and careful placement of the words on the paper indicated a thoughtful artist. His poem about a young girl riding a horse created clear mental images; brought me right into the ring. The man in the suit watching, his discomfort, became my way into an image. I mulled over his poem for a year, finally settling on the image of the man standing in the dust. I soaked the paper in brown ink and while still wet, stood on it letting my shoes make their mark. The yellow halo around the words stands in for the sunlight filtering into the ring.

What kind of time does a poem create? Robert’s poem is now one of my memories. For those who read it, see it, it becomes as present today as it was in the 1970s. Memories, like certain poems, remain vivid; poems carry that vividness into our lives; aren’t they as large inside us as the night sky; as small as two hands held up?

<< click here to return to The Written Image