The Works of Robert Snyderman 

 Robert Snyderman was born in Pennsylvania. He is a young poet. Just put together his second book. He is interested in learning how to live in a new way. His memory is in Brooklyn New York, where his brave friends run a small press and journal. They call themselves The Corresponding Society and every thing is a pilgrimage.


All Poems © Robert Snyderman



Sequences From "Meadow And Torrent"

SALVATION LIMBS


I am introducing a sequence


To you    who would not have advertised me. August 2007


And some time in July 2008. An irritable blessing.


Let    the astonishment    happen first.   then guerilla warfare.


hostages and minimalism. Then, stigmata


in response to the pride of the climate. Thunder or Rain. Lightening or Shelter.


Man or Woman. Politician or Hobo. Conceptual Stigmata or Useless Sanitation.



I am introducing a sequence.


To you   who would not have advertised me.   I bought the violin in July 2007.

                                                                          The Meadow raised me to be violent

                                                                          only intensely ignorant, each human

                                                                          is always alone with another human.

                                                                          Why write about the violin?

                                                                          These are my questions...

                                                                          These are my aid...

To you who would not have advertised me.

October 24, 2008. I took a bus to Philadelphia. abandon the home.


I am introducing a sequence. To you    who would not have advertised me

is an experiment for the idea of youth. written with haste. patient haste.


                                                           the civilization of the meadow

                                                           that raised me

                                                           is not aware

                                                           of the existence

                                                           of patient haste.


                                                           written between authorities.

                                                           written for authorities.


                                             not written for possible burdens

(human solitude, unearth. earthly orgasm)


                               not written to relinquish possible burdens

I am introducing a sequence. An after life. A drum.


SALVATION LIMBS


Why Meadow? you have defied

the human voice, or sound in general

is homeward   and   deformed

sexual solitude       if the context

is detachment

the bodiless and animal-like

                          among autumnal familiar

paranoia. your hair is the same

                                          as mine.

your husband is sane

                                          because he understands

                                          that he is regretful.

                                          Is your father a husband?

Is your hunger   a human?

Hunger Birth.   Why Meadow?

Mortality in Philadelphia

                        12:03 am    abandon   meant

                        A professor of pity. A student of pity.

                        eye-urine. Why Meadow? I was

                        an upright human, until the wilderness

                        does not approach, Until I refuse

to apologize. The Civilization. The snoring dark,

                                               not yet irritable,

                                           and not yet seductive.

                                           not hot fire inside hot fire.

The Civilization.

The thematic licking.

                                          ruined you portable.

The portable end.



Why end? When did the

                  enslavement

                  become the talent?


                                                                                        SALVATION LIMBS


            woman of   sun machines... Often sun machines.

            Sweeney do not stagger round-n-round.


The horse does not speak clearer than you

Although the silences are similar:

Fertile and Mutinous – you don’t take enough of that river

She drinks from between the enormous fertility of

The horse does not cough up

Seasonal diarrhea

Of white man soul hunted.                                               Memorize the sex exit.


A Human Abundance. You holiness search the find.

Savings account.

Share light and unnecessary pain.

Then the pregnant becomes math.

He who throws a rock in to the Connecticut river.

sun machine and rail road track.

He who does not remember that day.

Too many useful drugs.



You are being watched

By an exact anarchist.

I haven’t met her yet. Someday in the university of the future:

Fertile and Mutinous, Healthy with fatal intentions.

Human blood must form The Mouth. Noose Carnivals    mouth-like

                                                            Noose Pendulums  mouth-like


The Inventor of Life. The Suicide Genius.

But myth is myth   are portals of severe warmth.

Pearl Harbor.      The child of both sexes stares.


Disease and Research.

Hobo scientist. Blood piss. Hereditary death.

                       The Logic! The Humor!


The newest disease and   peasant language

My grandfather told me days ago,

his mother was born in the Yoral Mountains divide Europe and Asia Russia

Russia   Then.   Then.    My mother is born in San Antonio, Texas.

    The American Indian     As If the sun had murdered

     us into the temperature of the human eye. Disorientation  ,

    happened vivid breathing  ,  a collapse,   The World Trade

decentered.  The human mouth that does not imply

censorship = The newest disease  The visual strategy,

Decapitate the poets!  if there are any poets left,

nameless yourself. One poem. I manifesto the Jihad

of endless naming, between publishers,

chewing new hells into the familiar birth control,

the familiar trap

of concealed

gasp and clever

bleeding gap.  A cancer of new hells.

                        A river of hostages,

the imaginary ejaculation weeps,  The trees fall, That is the symbol.

soldier the turban

shock the corpse           and tortured with bravery

Who is the lung? Who is the body? humiliated with bravery,

                        Who is the self? Who is selfish?

   Who has not surrendered?

Who has not invented old logic?

Resurrection is not a type of silence?

High School was not a burden?

Sweeney isn’t getting married to Adrian?

And I am not silence? And I am not the Yoral Mountains?