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Caudell, Robin - Rob Fountain Photo

Robin Caudell

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Years:

Biography

Robin Caudell is an AP award-winning journalist and videographer. She has been a staff writer at the Press-Republican since 1990. Born and raised on Maryland's Eastern Shore, she holds a B.S. in Journalism from the University of Maryland at College Park and a MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She is a brand-new alum of SongwritingWith:Soldiers and wrote "Sinking Sand" with Georgia Middleman, a Nashville-based singer-songwriter. She is a founding member of the North Country Underground Railroad Historical Association/North Star Museum at Ausable Chasm and the Plattsburgh Air Force Base Museum. A Cold War and United States Air Force Veteran, she served from 1986-1990 and rose to the rank of Sgt. She served as an Adirondack Center for Writing instructor for eight years. She also was a counselor/writer for the summer-writing program of the National Book Foundation at Bennington College.

Poem

Genetic Jazz

 

Harjo

Joy

Silvers

Soprano-sax poems

Blue-blacking

Muskogee hearts

Raven wings

 

Joy Raps true

Slaps hypocrite MITT

(More Indian Than Thou)

Who squint down

Not so brown or red

Nor chiseled noses

At Breeds

Lacing moccasins

Beaded with Ancestors’ eyes

 

Genetics: Porcupine quills

You can’t shake

 

Africa calls

You

Daughter

Sister Joy

Calls you

Beloved

Gifts obsidian

Horses horses horses

With Pleiad eyes

 

DNA don’t lie

Oya smudges you

Yoruba ritual

Quinine quest

Shine   shine   shine

 

Lift sax

Blow back

Blow back

Blow back

Stoke mud

Where E1B1A

Mixed jazz electric

Blue and rude

 

DNA don’t lie

Neither do Spirit

 

Genetics: Porcupine quills

You can’t shake

 

 

Bass Line

 

Patrice

 

I know the rock

From which you were carved

The Archangel harping

‘Round your base

 

Fire in your obsidian eyes

Stoke a passion, a potential so

Magnificent I hold my breath

Fall through your eyes

To God, oh God, oh Lord Jesus

 

A dusk daughter

Knows a King’s son

 

 

Winter’s Septentrion Sestina

 

Maiden with cobalt cheeks and ghost-white tongue

Winter gathers Fall’s seams between her fingers

She strings poplar leaves and rhubarb stalks, a necklace

Of silver discs – sun and moon and ice

She sleeps beneath Gray Wolf in oak shadows

A midwinter’s night dream spills

 

Squirrels scamper in her bone-black hair, it spills

Across the frozen land   beneath

Dawn’s rose tongue Spring burrows in her deepest shadows

She pops beechnuts with nimble purple fingers

Unhooks time like a black pearl necklace

 

She dreams Adirondack bears chew her necklace

In the night, the Aurora Borealis spills

Across a lake thick with snow-covered ice

The Man in the Moon’s emerald tongue

Licks her slender, hoary fingers

Cradling her mind’s lamp-black shadows

 

She dreams Adirondack bears chew her necklace

In the night, the Aurora Borealis spills

Across a lake thick with snow-covered ice

The Man in the Moon’s emerald tongue

Licks her slender, hoary fingers

Cradling her mind’s lamp-black shadows

 

She dreams Adirondack bears chew her necklace

In the night, the Aurora Borealis spills

Across a lake thick with snow-covered ice

The Man in the Moon’s emerald tongue

Licks her slender, hoary fingers

Cradling her mind’s lamp-black shadows

 

Across the sky   Dusk spills indigo fingers

Winter’s tongue bores beads of ice

In oak shadows   She strings a necklace