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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.

Steve

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 »


Herding Ants

Type: Poem

October 26, 2016

Herding the ants
Wrangling the angst
Whilst moments tick away
And years are forgotten
Deep below the shallow
The clock ticks, slows, speeds
As time bends, springs, and then,
With the stunning slow motion of a soft trudge through
Dark, forbidden quicksand
Miles from civilization, near the center of nowhere
Deep in the bayou
The... Read More »


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 »