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More of Gibbons’s poetry in our Winter 2001

Summer 2001

Fall 2000

Winter 2000

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Photo of Robert Gibbons by Joe Schuyler. All rights reserved.

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This Vanishing Architecture, has just been published by Innerer Klang Press.

Lover, Is This Exile? and OF DC are still in print from InnererKlang@aol.com

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New work is online at:

Conspire

Linnaean Street

Pith

Recursive Angel

Slow Trains

Tatlin's Tower

His work is forthcoming in

Evergreen Review

Janus Head

and In Posse

He writes a column, “Observations,” for www.niederngasse.com, an online magazine out of Switzerland


Robert Gibbons Robert Gibbons



The Custom House Moves into View



Until today I could never remember just how the Custom House moves into view as the commuter ferry eases toward the dock at Rowe's Wharf. Now it's etched. Slides in, or dances, depending on the roll of the tide, from the north, as the bow of the boat circles south. If I had more money I'd stop in at the café just ahead, jot this minor observation down over a cup of coffee. But by my calculation, apart from the lucky money in the watch pocket of my jeans: the 2000 copper dollar with the image of the woman carrying a papoose; the 10 franc piece found in the middle of Huntington Avenue; various pennies; Jefferson on the nickel; the Norwegian krone with the hole in the middle, also found on a rich street in Boston; I have 51 cents. No coffee for that anymore, anywhere. So carry this information, carefully, in sentence form, as it first sprung up on the deck of the Nora Vittoria, into the quiet lobby of the Boston Harbor Hotel where there's always a writing desk, (waiting for me,) surrounded by walls of old maps. Just opposite is Captain John Bonner's 1722 map of the town. It pictures, of all things, two “Writing Schools,” one up there on Common Street, another lower toward the water. Sure, I'll be a little late for work today, though I'm making no investments of my own or others' money, I am taking stock in what really matters. The toss of lucky coins strewn across this yellow writing pad, against the context of extravagant surroundings, seems all the fortune anyone needs, along with the simple force of language.