36 Views of Fuji Poems by Kenton Wing Robinson

picture of Kenton Wing Robinson

Robinson’s subject is love, as love alone gives purpose to our brief existence. His “views” include loves won, lost, blessed, and cursed; love, too, of friends, family, and this Earth (more than 45 species of birds pass through these pages). Above all, 36 Views of Fuji is a testament to Robinson’s abiding love of the music of language — each word given its true weight.
  36 views of fuji cover image
  Photo by Christofer Tan from Unsplash.

Kenton Wing Robinson takes his middle name from his grandmother’s maiden name, as it was she who taught him to read and introduced him to Thomas Carew, her favorite metaphysical poet. Robinson achieved his first notoriety as a poet in the eighth grade, when an English teacher intercepted his poem alleging she had sex with hippopotami. His poems have been published in AGNI, The Litchfield Review, Connecticut River Review, Rattle, Arsenic Lobster, Lilliput Review, Feminist Studies and several other journals. He lives in Riverside, Rhode Island.

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ISBN 978-1-943826-99-5
First edition, 2022
360 pages

Copies of this book can be ordered
from all bookstores including Amazon
and directly from the author:
Kenton Wing Robinson
65 Oak Ave.
Riverside, RI 02915.
Please send $25.00 per book
plus $5.00 for shipping
  by check payable to Kenton Wing Robinson.

He can be reached at



copyright © 2022 by Kenton Wing Robinson


Stick by stick
the house sparrows knit
the minutes of the long day

this fine rain in
no hurry
to fill the galvanized pail

would that I
could wait for you
so patiently

Tonight the zombie opossum
wakes from his living

death to stalk
the blue ice-calving shadows like
an ox-eyed ax

skulks to scare us stiff mid-kiss
an uninvited nearsighted


A ghost of your kiss visits my lips
wings of a moth
beating my mouth

& this is how I woke in your arms
in the tousled bed
of our youth

& this is how I wake from a dream
old & alone
with that truth


Remember when we stripped to swim
in the dry creek bed
& then   

scrambled headlong
up its banks
clutching clothing to our breasts when

in two straight lines
around the bend
marched a wide-eyed Cub Scout troop


Clams on the strand
on this blue day

we walk through them in tandem

some we save
throw back
to the waves

some we leave
for the gulls
to crack

we laugh to think our fate will be
as random


The mower edged the flowerbed
his purpled scythe
a shear dis-


in his distraction beheaded them
& marvelled at
now            aimless      bees

so do I grieve
as he to grass
so do you to me


Wooden box propped
on the stick

attached to the string
attached to the carrot

never caught a rabbit

no matter
how often I set it

the only thing trapped
was the rabbit’s laugh


Preachers said I had to choose
whiskey or
my soul’s salvation

water to wine
I chose the divine
faith you buy in a bottle

if you have ever walked this world
you know God didn’t
build it sober

At the poetry reading
where I shamelessly read
lines I wrote

for you as you
at the back of the room
stayed weeping

sometimes the pain is worth it
my wise friend on seeing
such beauty said