all in black blood my love went riding



Ross Robbins will soon take over the world. Or at least the small press poetry world. His work has urgency and fervor,  buoyancy and playfulness. He is a poet in every fibre of his body. You pick up this book or watch him read and know he was called to this occupation, the way people of the old world would just be something. 

From the review of the book at The Poetry Question:

Thank you Ross Robbins for splaying yourself open like the science class earth worm. For letting everything out in the open. For being the extroverted mass transit rider, the malevolent toothache. For knowing that sometimes, “love is a many vendored thing.”

Ross is the founder of Bone Tax Press and The Bone Tax Reading series. He has published several chapbooks, including I Want To Say How I Feel And Be Done With It Forever, 80 Poems, and Hot Bright Oyster. His first true full length, Mental Hospital: A Memoir is forthcoming from YesYes Books in 2015. Find 4 poems from it, previewed here.


All in black blood my love went riding 

We will join like artificial hips

Rent like an apartment

Made out of paper *


A black sedan is parked at the mouth of a long, tree- lined driveway. In the fallen leaves, sneakers crunch a reluctant metronome. At the end of the walk the killer will find the lingerie heiress already strangled with— well, duh. *


I started down the hill to the beach
I could see things had changed
Forests and rockslides had appeared from nowhere
You come to accept impermanence, expect it
You are reading on the city bus
You look up and all the faces have shifted
Yet really—they are the same *