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by alongtheserivers
Apr 20, 2017 | 1351 views | 1 1 comments | 93 93 recommendations | email to a friend | print | permalink
<i>Judith R. Robinson
Photo by Toby Tabachnick</i>
Judith R. Robinson
Photo by Toby Tabachnick

Hi Poetry Lovers,

Today I would like to thank our publisher, The Jewish Chronicle, and its reporter, Toby Tabachnick, for the review of the launch event for CAROUSEL, my newest book.


See The Jewish Chronicle, April 21, 2017, page 3, or soon at http://www.thejewishchronicle.net


I feel most appreciated, and most grateful.

(As I also am to editor, Angela Leibowicz, for all her tech-savvy assistance with this blog!)  


COA, City of Asylum, and its newest space, Alphabet City, were my hosts. COA is a remarkable organization, founded by Salman Rushdie, to rescue and support writers who are censored (or worse) by governments all around the world.

Diane Samuels and Henry Reese founded the Pittsburgh chapter. Their fine work deserves to be supported: check out http://www.cityofasylumpittsburgh.org.


CAROUSEL, the title poem's video can be seen at


The book is available at Caliban Books, Craig St. Oakland, or from www.amazon.com.

 Readings are listed on my website, www.judithrrobinson.com

Finally, we cannot close without a poem, and since The Jewish Chronicle is the voice of our community, and so much more, I have chosen a poem that in some respects is an homage to us all, the Jewish people of Pittsburgh.


Squirrel Hill, 2012



The well-built 2 and 3-story bricks

still house the dreams of the middle-class.


Fewer gas stations service many more cars,


while people who are not in a hurry run as fast as they can

along beautiful Beechwood Boulevard.


Murray, the longest Avenue, hosts a hillside

of new food purveyors, of different origin

than the hardy bakers and butchers of the past---

more pizza now and sushi than kosher chicken

and kreplach soup---but the liveliness

and sweat-for-every-dollar hours remain the same.


Allderdice High School has changed, too.

Gone is the vast green lawn that lent dignity.

What is left to mask the rowdiness and shenanigans inside?


Another generation of oddballs shuffles past

the Manor, turns up-street at Forbes, these days.

Do they call out to the same unseen angels on high?

Do they chat with the same absent friends?


Synagogues of each persuasion offer old prayers and answers

alongside the newer Korean church.


Change has been ushered in at the post office as well:

bright blue counters and shining bulbs light up the lines

of weary, outraged customers.


Robins and cardinals still do business in the ancient,

thick-trunked sycamores of Schenley Park, especially upon

the car roofs of young lovers, necking in Toyotas, not Chevys.


And the squirrels still abound, the small, beloved,

plume-tailed rodents who named our little place in the world.


Thanks Toby, thanks Chronicle, and thank you for clicking in!


                                                         xo Judy




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April 29, 2017
The history of our neighborhood condensed to a poem. A poem that so correctly describes the place we live in and do not want to move out of. We dream about the long gone shops on Murray, and realize that the neighborhood has changed and now would not be able to support them.

Such picturesque writing.