life

“Untitled” (February 13th 2014)

A huge thanks to Moisés for giving me this amazing onionskin typewriter paper last year for my birthday…this was the first time I’ve used it. Love at first feel. The translucent, texturized, fragile essence made for a perfect poem this Valentine’s Day.

Los Angeles Makerspaces…and Conductak

Most of the people I typed for at last year’s Artisanal LA event have blurred together in memory. Even still, there is one fellow I have no intention of ever forgetting. He came over with a friend. She wandered off to take pictures as he and I began to talk. At first, we did the basic Typewriter Poetry dance. He asked about the project, I answered with my usual bases covered. Soon, something shifted. He sat down on the floor. I halted my work on another person’s poem. We dove into our hitchhiking and traveling stories; afterward, he shared his love of robotics and electronics with me.

Literary Creatures: Philly Fringe Festival 2018

Some performances were long. We raged past the show and burrowed furiously into the night. Other performances were lonely and quiet, intimate, with soft conversation and relaxed acceptance of letting the flow be. On the last night, our voices rose and fell in play with one another, harmonizing at their own accord to the perfect pitches, intervals, frequencies.

"So Much Synth" by Brenda Shaughnessy - Poetry Book Review - Billimarie Lubiano Robinson, Typewriter Poetry

Time Traveling into a Well-Kept Room

I remember feeling strange, to be in the town but not of the town. I came across Shaughnessy’s Our Andromeda while quietly stacking inventory for Princeton students in need of textbooks. She was a local poet, working with the Princeton MFA’s Emerging Writers series and teaching at Rutgers. Now, returning back to the east coast, to New Jersey, to Newark–it seemed like the perfect time to read Shaughnessy’s newest poetry book, So Much Synth, during the five hour flight from Los Angeles.

"With Ink" by Billimarie Lubiano Robinson - Typewriter Poetry

Typewriter Poem: “With Ink”

Found out my friend Ryan passed away last year. We met at the Canoga Park Art Walk a few years back…I typed him a poem, he showed me his drawings. Young guy. Potential. We stayed in touch, hanging out and talking, reflecting. The last time we talked, he told me he was focusing on recovery.