Steve Robison

I love writing. Writing excites me, moves me, fulfills me. It’s my passion and my purpose.

If you love reading, I hope you’ll find something worthy here. As Ben Franklin said in Poor Richard’s Almanac:

“If you would not be forgotten
As soon as you are dead and rotten
Either write things worth reading
Or do things worth the writing.”

I write because I love writing. And I write so people might cry at my funeral.


P.S. If you love my writing, please consider buying one or more of my books, writing a review, and reaching out and letting me know. Thanks a million.

Steve Robison on Amazon.com »

Smooth Writhing

Type: Poem

October 10, 2016 4:19 pm EDT

The slick drip
ran down the inside
of her left thigh.
I tasted, found the gateway,
the passage afire
in... Read More »

Impending Storm

Type: Fiction

October 5, 2016 7:44 am EDT

There’s a grey indecisiveness to the mood of the sky today, above the ocean, her anger slowly building, past my perspective, beyond the curved horizon, there’s a new storm at brew, the tickling of a rage not held by the ticking of any invention so lame as time. On the sand, near the rocks of the inlet, with my pole, not expecting any fish—they’re as nervous about the impending storm as I, and while they’ve not got the knowledge of location, timing, intensity, millennia of evolution has taught them all the same—danger lurks, tumult and terror and drama.

I got a brief nibble a few hours ago, when the sun was still young in the new autumn day, but then nothing,... Read More »

Insurrection Reflected

Type: Fiction

September 26, 2016 3:02 pm EDT

And he looked o’er the broad sea and to the curved horizon beyond, and sought peace, but found naught. And he drank from the deepest fount, from the waters cooled of the depths of time, and sought peace, but found naught. And... Read More »

The Baker

Type: Fiction

September 26, 2016 2:34 pm EDT

But my fate was chosen before I grew wise, and my fate was to cook, to heat, and to give sustenance to the many. The pain I avoided a great many times, with prudence and alertness, I kept my fingers from the fire, but not every time, alas, so I knew the pain of perfect heat. What choice did I have but to choose to numb the pain... Read More »