{"id":8460,"date":"2015-05-01T08:00:44","date_gmt":"2015-05-01T08:00:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=8460"},"modified":"2020-12-09T14:59:07","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T14:59:07","slug":"colin-campbell-robinson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/colin-campbell-robinson\/","title":{"rendered":"Colin Campbell Robinson"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

Noir<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here.<\/em><\/p>\n

Italo Calvino. \u2018Invisible Cities\u2019.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The proof is in the text.<\/p>\n

He manipulates keys.<\/p>\n

They hold plastic close, electronic skipping.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

– Message me sometime.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She said thanks and left the rest to his imagination.<\/p>\n

He was in the ether, didn\u2019t really exist at all.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

– I didn\u2019t get it.<\/p>\n

– I sent it.<\/p>\n

– You can\u2019t read it?<\/p>\n

– Delete.<\/p>\n

– Are you sure?<\/p>\n

– Deleted.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\nNo one has time.<\/p>\n

It is written or is it?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Few words come down the line.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

– I imagine you languishing.<\/p>\n

– How could you?<\/p>\n

She slaps down her receiver, breaks into tears.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Everything happens including\u2026<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The text is another message. Meaning in the touch.<\/p>\n

We connect.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

– I\u2019ve known you for how long<\/p>\n

– 3,250 seconds to be exact<\/p>\n

Long as\u2026<\/p>\n

Long as\u2026<\/p>\n

Longing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She sent pictures of herself. They are stimulating.<\/p>\n

The world is stimulating. The world is pornographic.<\/p>\n

Paint it black, he says to girls in coloured clothes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She says, come unto me or was it onto me?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You\u2019ll be surprised to know this is fiction.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She reads his text, smiles, holds her head in her hands.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Spying, he\u2019d call it spying.<\/p>\n

She says she\u2019s keeping abreast of current trends.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

There will be change. I know what I know, can\u2019t hide. She came down the line like a spider.<\/p>\n

Networking, she called it, work-grouping.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

This is a party line. Hold on for connection.<\/p>\n

Your party is busy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

– Ring me on my work phone but whisper.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He\u2019s making it up. \u00a0She makes up with one hand on the wheel and free.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dart about like a moth. Death will soon come.<\/p>\n

And he came quick as a genie offering sad wishes.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Have to keep it brief. No one has time.<\/p>\n

Single-minded love to be loved.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

She looks in many directions but there\u2019s no diamond on the horizon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Metal days, steely and iron-filled.<\/p>\n

Gold feeds her fever.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>
\nHer fingers move faster.<\/p>\n

She sends messages of empty expectation<\/p>\n

like a heart scavenger.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Death comes all over her like a youthful lover.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Colin Campbell Robinson<\/strong> is an Australian artist currently living and working in the Celtic extremity of West Penwith. He has had his work performed and published in a variety of venues both in
\nAustralia and Europe.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Noir   The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here. Italo Calvino. \u2018Invisible Cities\u2019.     The proof is in the text. He manipulates keys. They hold plastic close, electronic skipping.   – Message me sometime.   She said thanks and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[139,7,9],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8460","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2015-poetry-picks","category-prose-poetry","category-word-image"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8460","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8460"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8460\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8777,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8460\/revisions\/8777"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8460"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8460"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8460"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}