Robert Hill Long and Robert Hill Long share space/time in Eugene, Oregon. How do they differ?

  • RHL has published 3 books of poems, prose poems, flash fictions; is not hard to find on Google; is a pretty good guitarist, gardener, cook, husband, father, brother and son. (Also: loves futbol.) Proceed to Books/Excerpts page for more info/links.
  • Robert Long works in Research and Faculty Development at the University of Oregon: generally concerned with humanities, arts and social sciences, and especially with digital scholarship. (He’s a year-round commuter cyclist.)

Here’s RHL with great-grandmother Hill:with great grandmother Hill

And that’s Robert at UO/2009, helpful and benign, to the right: RFD contacts

More of his work can be found at the University of Oregon Digital Scholars.

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The main purpose here is archive published RHL writings uncollected in books: to gather work scattered across the web, to reprint works otherwise available only in print (as often as not, in journals that can be located only in research university libraries), or from journals no longer in print/websites gone to limbo.

There’s a great deal of my uncollected work over the past 30-odd years; gradually I’ll compile it here. This site will be more archive than blog, then, more about self-curation than about frequencies of literary opinionating; editorial additions will increase the depth and breadth of the content, rather than offer daily/weekly/monthly observations about  writing, writers, life, etc.

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One Response to “Who”

  1. Dan Brock Says:

    Robert,
    A million years ago, early 90’s, I took classes from you, wrote rather moody bits re age and mortality (I’d turned 40 in the process).
    You were gracious in your criticism and, for that, I thank you, Sir.
    During. the first of the aforementioned terms, I wrote an embarrassing little bit equating “dead soldiers” ie empty beer bottles with war casualties (Dead soldiers named “Henry”) sad.
    There’s a reason I do what I do now, instead of writing poetry and that is: I know when I’m whipped.
    Stage 1 of being a poet is knowing when you ain’t one – but being able to notice good shit when you see it.
    I take a certain, undeserved pride in at least knowing a good poem when I read it (Pat yourself on the back for that – partially) – and knowing that, barring wife, kids and me starving – I could, given immortality, write a good poem someday… Maybe.
    So, having ingratiated myself, I’ll get to the meat.
    I referred to Wilfred Owen with the silly Henry Weinhards reference earlier but have since begun to realize that the God of 1st war poets is-was-and-ever-shall-be…
    Sassoon.
    Gainsay me at your peril.
    My question is this:
    Specifically, although it’s not unique,
    “To The Warmongongers” best illustrates what I’m talking about.
    It’s dissonant, but it’s got a beat.
    And – aren’t modernist poems not supposed to rhyme at all?
    This thing rhymes but the structure of it goes so all over the map.
    So, in reading this, I assume that full-stops (ie;periods) denote where the reader should pause (Duh).
    If so read, it gives it this headlong “God-I-hope-I-get-to-a-full-stop-before-I-run-out-of-breath”
    urgency that you can’t buy at the store.
    It works in my head but am I doing it right?
    Great War poetry is one of my many obsessions .
    Right, wrong or indifferent, it’s the defining debacle of the century that defines us
    I’ve obsessed over Sassoon but in the past few have dug into Robert Graves.
    “A Child’ Nightmare”.
    Christ.
    Goodnight all.

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