Seattle Press on Line - Fine Roman Hand

Fine Roman Hand

By Stephen Herold

Oct 11, 2001 -- A week and a half ago the poetic voice of the Northwest died. Robert Sund was 71, and all his life he had loved and sung the praises of his countryside just as Walt Whitman had done for growing America. Born in rural Gray's Harbor of Finn-Swede stock, Robert studied poetry under Theodore Roethke and, forty years ago, strode forth to connect us to the beauty of our land and our feelings for it. Years later he remembered the days of his youth and his hard working family:

In America
history goes quickly,
there is a windstorm.
Finland is a
coat flattened against my father,
like a newspaper caught
in blackberries.

In those many years he published little--three longer books and a quantity of exquisite chapbooks. Although a volume of collected poems is under way, he was himself the record of his work, everyday and in his most common discourse. His little notes, as when he came to visit and no one was home, or the scribblings on envelopes while sipping wine were works of polished distillation whose pleasures linger for years.

Coming to visit and no one is home
On this crisp winter day.
The dancing light on the river
warms our hearts better than a fire.

His first published work was Bunch Grass, published by the University of Washington Press, where he records his observations while working on the wheat harvest in Eastern Washington.

In a landscape that desperately needs color
why do the flowers
stay
so close to the ground?
You meet them with surprise
hidden
in the pale grasses.

Over the years Robert moved about spots of captivating beauty in this state--the Nooksak, Shi Shi, the Skagit Delta, and many rooms in friend's homes. Everywhere he went his touch turned ordinary reality into a glowing jewel of a poet's world, and when he left we watched the gray shades of ordinary life resume.

An artist as well as a poet, Robert resumed his vibrant watercolors when he brought the Asparagus Moonlight Group together for the first show of new Northwest art in 1970. After writing out many of his poems in calligraphy for several years, I encouraged him to use his own bold, strong handwriting himself, and he became a calligrapher of note in every word he wrote thereafter. Even his corrections, which he called "mountainous revisions," were a positive decoration and no mere smudge.

Only when they are gone do we realize who were the foundations of our happiness and love of home. Robert Sund stands monumental, singing forever the feelings we all have and cannot voice.

It will be
a beautiful spring.
I felt it tonight,
it was being prepared inside the rose.
the silent shifting of ash in the petals,
in the trees
in the earth between the waking roots...

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Debra Tompkins	Jul 25, 2003	Roy, Utah	computer care consultant
Over the years I have always wondered about Robert Sund.In the late 70s he stayed with my father in Inverness Ca. for quite some time. He painted and my father had a showing for his works. I was a young teen and had alot of respect for this somewhat quiet and creative man. I really had no appreciation for his art but I loved to watch and listen to him. He was so humble.I told him once that I could paint as good as him so he gave me an easel, canvas, paints and said to paint what I felt and to have fun. Well we ended up matting and framing my piece and hung it up with his art for the showing. We had lots of laughs because the people who showed were so pretentuous,and snobby. My piece was actually looked at quite intensely by several. It was hideous and Robert and I couldn't keep a straight face, It was so fun.I remember his art didn't go over very well and I was sad for him. I have never forgotten him and his art hangs in my home. My father always loved his work and I developed a love for it too. Sadly my father passed away too. I was so happy to have found info on Robert tonight I thought I would share a story.