Author: Rob Kistner

“Art is perception — none of it is wrong…”

Gerard Sekoto, “Police Man on a White Horse in the Fields” (1959)

—-<§>—-

gerard sekoto
does not arrive gently

he enters
with a hand
seeking hard truth

here—
the horse—
white dragged across the surface
like light pulled through dust—
weight in every broken stroke

and the man—
held upright
but not still

authority trembles in the lines

a uniform that cannot quite settle
into certainty

sekoto remembers
while he paints

south africa rides with him—
not so much as place—
but as pressure
inside the wrist

the field fractures
into color and push—
nothing passive here

even the sky leans

horse and rider
not posed—
but passing through—
as if the moment
could not be trusted
to stay—
so he breaks it
into motion—
…keeps it alive
…never letting it rest

the artist
works against the staid—
against the still—
nothing allowed
to sit quietly

the horse is white
…but carries weather
…and labor
…and time

paint laid thick
then pulled apart—
like memory resisting form

the rider—
a dark presence—
not outlined
but insisted

power suggested
then unsettled
in the same breath

the artist knows
how images lie—
so he refuses completion

the field dissolves
into movement—
…color unsettled
…direction uncertain

everything shifts
just enough—
…so nothing becomes fixed
…nothing becomes owned

horse moves forward—
man moves with it—
but the painting
moves faster—
beyond them—
into something
that cannot be held—
only felt

and even that
only for a moment

everything leans
slightly forward—
as if escape
is already happening

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”Homage to Sekoto”by: rob kistner © 4/21/26

Gerard Sekoto (12/9/13 – 3/20/93), was a South African artist and musician. A pioneer of urban Black Art and social realism. His work was exhibited in Paris, Stockholm, Venice, Washington, and Senegal. His “Yellow Houses – a Street in Sophiatown” (1940) was the first work by a black artist purchased by a South African municipal gallery. (See below)

<~>

rob kistner © 4/21/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Dedicated to my wife, Kathy, a blazing sprinter grade school through college…

Original DDE™ art: “Swift, Strong & Sensual” — by: rob kistner ©4/20/26

—-<§>—-

muscles coiled
she explodes
igniting raw speed

two steps—
already at velocity

strength flows low
through center

taut beautiful legs
dig deep—
…flowing
…pure

every motion—
…precise
…inevitable

she runs
for the exhilarating joy
of running

a burning yes
to life—
…uncontained
…fierce

magnificent…!

<~>

rob kistner © 4/20/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™ art: “Swift, Strong & Sensual” — by: rob kistner ©4/19/26

—-<§>—-

speed
and sinew

she ignites
before motion

lightening
coiled in muscle

breath steady

eyes already
beyond the next step

then—
explosive release

she drives forward—
not chasing
acceleration—
velocity

already being

strength
rides low
through hips—
through core…
through the quiet certainty
of trained fire

speed
unleashes from her—
like something natural—
like the fury
of unbridled wind
finding its direction

and those legs—
…long
…taut
…beautiful
…unapologetically alive—
they write distance
in sweeping lines—
each stride
a signature—
bold
and unbroken

agility radiates
inside her turns—
small corrections—
…invisible
…perfect

she bends—
but never breaks

shifts—
but never loses
the thread of momentum

there is passion here—
not loud
…but burning
…deep
…constant

an inferno of desire—
unquenchable

not for the finish—
but for motion itself
…for the feeling
of everything
perfectly aligned

and it radiates
a fierce joy—
a full-out yes—
…to the body
…to the moment
…to the run

she does not hold back—
she becomes
…the hunger
…the rhythm
…the balance
…the surge

she is life
uncontained

she is magnificance
at full stride

<~>

rob kistner © 4/19/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™ art: “Long And Winding” — by: rob kistner ©4/19/26

—-<§>—-

….road opens

like a promise

like a lie

still — you go

….

a map fragment:

mile 0 — departure

mile 12 — same thought

mile 47 — renamed it “new”

they sell distance
as cure

….

engine hum

becomes belief

forward
forward

….

flash:

he checks into a room

different city

same suitcase

same hesitation

unpacks nothing

turns on a light

calls it arrival

….

horizon performs
sly escape

retreats perfectly

you follow

….

note to traveler:

weather migrates with you

storms included

do not assume

elsewhere = otherwise

….

there is motion

not change

there is scenery

not shift

….

postcard:

wish you were here

but I am
where you were

and it hasn’t helped

….

you begin to wonder

you begin to suspect

you begin to doubt

….

diagram:

self ~> carried

mind ~> persistent

past ~> unchecked baggage

destination:

repetition

….

still

you keep going

….

flash:

she crosses an ocean

watches her reflection
in a window

superimposed

on a foreign skyline

recognizes it
immediately disappointed

….

the myth cracks

travel

as escape

fails

no distance
great enough

….

warning:

movement is not removal

it is translation

you remain legible

everywhere

….

but

there

especially
there

….

a moment

unplanned

unsold

….

no map

no narrative

you forgot

to be
the one
who left

….

flash :

no name

no history

just breath

>>>entering

leaving>>>

….

and for that sliver
that fleeting moment

the journey begins to end

not by arrival

but by disappearance —

by absence —

by forgetting .…

<~>

rob kistner © 4/19/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

 

Original DDE™ art: “ume ni karasu (Crow in Plum Tree)” — by: rob kistner ©4/16/26

—-<§>—-

a thought arrives

sideways

or maybe
it never left

just waited

….

there
in the seam
of the window

wind
finding its way
again

coffee cools

forgotten

remembered

forgotten

….

but once
I trusted
straight lines

maps

edges
that held

….

now

feather

ash

memory

passing through
passing through

my hands

….

a crow

lands—

or something like it—

we pause

together

brief

shared

gone

….

there was a street

once

I can’t return

no map

no path

only

the feeling

still there

precise

like breath
held

too long

….

why
do certain moments

stay

stay

no answer

just this

….

the day
continuing

indifferent

generous

unfinished

….

and me

carried

or following

carried

or following

not knowing

not needing
to know….

not needing

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”karasu (Crow)” by: rob kistner © 4/16/26

<~>

rob kistner © 4/16/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Joni pulled together some fucking primo players on this one…

 

…my gift to you below — the entirety of that landmark concert.

Original DDE™ art: “Calm And Deep” — by: rob kistner © 4/15/26

—-<§>—-

love does not arrive
with a force

it settles
like quiet weather
inside your being

a soft realization
that this matters—

a comfort
without a reason—
an attraction
without logic

you notice it
in the way a hand pauses
before letting go
of another

in the space held
for someone’s story
that has no ending yet

love listens
longer than logic presumes—
longer than comfort allows

love forgets itself—
in the act
of remembering another

it moves
without announcement
through ordinary hours

love does not insist
on being seen

it works
in the margins
of attention

a slight turning
toward another
when the room grows loud

it is patience
without a clock

ordinary people
reaching
for the extraordinary

the willingness
to sit beside
what cannot be solved

love is the warmth
left in a chair
after someone rises

a trace—
that says
you were not alone

it carries
what is fragile—
without naming it burden

it is not inflexible—
not brittle—
it does not shatter

it softens—
spreading quietly
‘round an impact—
‘round a bruise

to bring comfort
a consoling word
and healing

love has no center—
it gathers—
in small crossings
of breath and presence

in the pause
before speaking—
when listening matters more

it is a door
left unlatched

a light
not turned off

it remembers
the shape of another
without holding it still—
unchanging

love is calm—
love is deep—
love is kind—

love moves
like water—
finding
the lowest places
first—
spreading—
…to make the rough
…the uneven
smooth—
and settled

and when it recedes
it is never fully gone—
it does not just vanish

it lingers
in the way we reach
ever for gentleness—
a knowing of the heart

and if it leaves
as all things are ought—
it leaves behind
…a reflection
…a memory
…a resonance
…a quiet
tender intelligence

that continues
to breath—
even in absence

<~>

rob kistner © 04/15/26

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO

 

 

Original DDE™ art: “Gone — But Unforgettable” — by: rob kistner © 4/14/26

—-<§>—-

where does love go
when it goes

after the last word
has been spoken—
but still echoes
through the bones
of the house—
echoes in your heart

when the room
goes quiet
and in the chair
across from you
sits a ghost—
her ghost

does she lean
seductively vaporous
across the table—
hands on the grain
of the table—
to linger languidly
in the worn places
where her tender hands
once lovingly rested

or does she rise—
invisible
but certain—
like a crisp breath
on a cold morning—
briefly seen
…then gone

have you felt her
in the pause
between heartbeats

in the way a name
a deep thought
or complex question
still arrives
unbidden

in the corner of your eye
only to turn
and she is not there

perhaps love does not go

perhaps it only loosens
…from form
…from voice
…from touch—
to become
a presence
unsolid—
but undeniable

waiting
in the unseen
for us
to feel it again

<~>

rob kistner © 4/14/26

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “A Whisper Of The Mind” — by: rob kistner © 4/13/26

—-<§>—-

At dusk, he finally reaches the lake at path’s end. The water is still as a held breath, and he listens for the sounds that once followed him everywhere — a whisper of the mind, now recalling his childhood.

He kneels quietly, fingers grazing the water, and the years ripple outward: a porch light, a father’s laugh, the slow drift of summer insects. He had buried these memories, or thought he had, beneath schedules, deadlines, and chaotic windowless rooms. But his return to this near forgotten lake, brings a different, refreshed perspective.

He sees now that the forgetting was only the distance of time. The whisper rises again, not calling, not warning, simply being. He muses, alive with the awareness he has found something lost. The old house is gone, but the path waits, patient as dusk, ready to lead him deeper into sweet memories.

<~>

rob kistner © 4/13/26

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO 26

Poetry at: dVerse

Original DDE™ art: “Dawn Porch” — by: rob kistner © 12/25/25

—-<§>—-

the porch gathers gently
the last of the day
around the quieting lake—
boats tick softly against their moorings—
lake light loosening toward night

dad and I
sit cleaning our gear
without hurry—
allowing that day’s successful catch
to settle into our weary frames

rustling north woods birch
ring tight the lake—
pale and still
…excited by the breeze
—their reflections
broken by gentle ripple—
winds on the water

above them — the sky opens—
sudden currents of color
begin to wash overhead—
…emerald
…neon jade
…phosphor green
…rose
…crimson
…arctic blue
…violet
…silver

the sky is afire

even aware it’s up there
the vaporous bloom
of the Aurora Borealis
always catches us off guard—
each time a glorious surprise

turning from the gaze skyward
we begin reflecting
on tonight’s return
to our cabin—

the narrow channel
from our neighboring lake—
water too shallow for speed—
the depth demanding attention

…ice age boulders
…submerged logs
…hidden bottom stumps
have shut down
many a fishing trip
sadly premature—
shearing a prop mercilessly

great care
and a damned sharp eye—
in tangent with a free oar
are the tasks of the crossing

respect the portage both ways
dad would explain
and it will grant you passage

this day we made it—
…we anchored
…we drifted
…we trolled
—we fished
…but not the big ong

the boat breathed peacefully
safely carrying us dawn to dusk

but soon night would arrive
precisely on time
so we’d head for home dock
and our beloved porch

as we gratefully approached
dusk was settling peacefully
on our snug cabin

moored boats
would soon be rocking—
bumping impatient—
the lake hushes itself around them

we’d wipe down rods
as we loosened and stored reels—
listening to the eerie calls
of the canadian lake loons

hands still warm
with the day’s work—
hearts still warm with the joy

white birch lined the far shore
standing quietly
listening

and above them—
the giant star-filled sky
continues its slow colorful drift

the magical aurora
lifting again—
like a brisk breath
through needles and leaves

talk about tomorrow
would begin
in hushed excitement and wonder—

we’d reflect once again
on the narrow way through—
on the shallow water
that won’t forgive haste—
on the careful portage ahead
…not as worry
…just remembering—
knowing

the night agrees to hold us

boats and plans
bobbing in the northern lights—
canada settling in
while the cabin warms
and sooths us—
and waits—
a patient wait quietly earned

like these wonderful memories—
…of those days
…of that magic
…of that place
…of all of it

of my precious dad

to talk with him
just one more time—

but there is no portage
by which to reach him — yet

<~>

rob kistner © 12/25/25

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO 26

Poetry at: dVerse

A smile is a beautiful mystery.Original DDE™ art: “Smiling Faces” — by: rob kistner © 3/29/26

—-<§>—-

faces emerge and recede
each smile a brief crossing

we linger there
in the gentle overlap
of presence and memory

something travels quietly
through all of us—
an invisible curiosity…

…not owned

…not named

it flickers dimly
like a thought
half-formed
touching the edges
of who we are

and just as it becomes clear
it leaves us—
wondering

<~>

rob kistner © 03/29/26

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO 26

Original DDE™ art: “His Race Is Run” — by: rob kistner © 4/10/26

—-<§>—-

my favorite picture—
you son—
radiant in airport light
home from new york

marathon still pulsing
in your body

gentle smile
cool shades
jacket open

moving easy

carry on
steady in hand

medal swinging
over your heart beat

arriving—
you looked
so completely here

and yet—
in that moment
you’d soon be…
forever gone

I see it clearly now
through tears

race run
bag packed
reward in hand

you were already
on your way—
forever young

fly — my sweet angel
…fly

<~>

My son Aaron 1976-1995

<~>

rob kistner © 4/10/26

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO 26

 

 

Original DDE™ art: “Beautiful Predator” — by: rob kistner © 4/9/26

—-<§>—-

I rise
over the long breath
of sterling ocean

sunlit thermic lift
carries me skyward
as if it remembers me

I am known by many names—
…osprey
…sea hawk
…fish hawk
…river hawk

but in this instance
I’m known by my nature

below—
the restless skin of water
rolling—
shifting—
silver thought
to silver thought

I circle
riding the thermals
not urged by hunger alone
but by a knowing

something moves
just beneath the visible

there—
…a flicker
…a fin
…a turning blade of life

I fold—
fall—
rapid and clean
through brightness…
to splash—
to enter the cold truth
of this moment

wings break
into water
then out again—
weight in my grasp—
pulse answering impulse

I climb
carrying the morsel—
carrying the moment
between sea and sky

today—
the coast speaks clearly
…nothing hidden
…everything moving

and I
held inside it—
being
what I have always been—
always will be…

…predator

<~>

rob kistner © 4/9/26

Poetry at: NAPOWRIMO 26

Did my life have purpose, make a difference, was I real…

Original DDE™ art: “Lost In Time” — by: rob kistner © 4/5/26

—-<§>—-

he runs
he runs
he knows not why—
but still
he runs

he feels
not real—

let this not be but a dream

a brushstroke loosed
from the painter’s hand

does this rain
pass through him
as if he is liquid

the clock
he has always chased—
is it dissolving—
not breaking
…but fading

let me not fall loose of time

does he no longer
catch light
to hold a form
in space and time

time’s becoming light
light’s becoming breath—
and he runs

do not let me disappear

he moves
not forward
but into vapor

each step
less weight

each splash
a soft erasure

unaware he is not running—
he is becoming—
something unbound—
‘tween before and after

a pulse
without measure

hear me
this all cannot come to naught

not a shimmer
between seconds—
where nothing is changed…
and nothing is real…

but rather…
…an expansive element
of time—
an eternal
evolving energy

always then…

always now…

always ever…

—hear me

<~>

rob kistner © 4/5/26

Poetry at: dVerse

 

Original DDE™ art: “Let It Slide — by: rob kistner © 4/6/26

—-<§>—-

he cradled the bone
like a welcome lover—
polished brass
catching dim light

each note softly smooth—
a velvet sigh
through smokey cloud

the mood settled easy
as time laid slowly back

funkin’n’floatin’ in memories
sweet and familiar
on the rollin’ slide
breath t’breath

<~>

Original DDE™ art: ”Boneman” by: rob kistner © 4/6/26

<~>

rob kistner © 4/6/26

Poetry at: dVerse