Robert Ronnow Poems

Spring and spring.
Clouds of maple.
Skies of pine.
...

Lonely bagel
Loneliness bagel
The bagel of loneliness
...

What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
...

I'm dead. Unlike Frost and Yeats
nothing I've said will be remembered.
Unlike Roosevelt and Lincoln
nothing I'm thinking will win the war.
...

Is war coming? Are we headed for another crazy
      cataclysm?
My sons, draft age. Only now can I appreciate the pain
so sharp it drains the color from one's eyes, your reason
...

Jack awoke in his usual pain, un-
daunted by it. We're all gonna die
someday is his morning mantra these days.
Isolate the variable, anything
...

I woke up Saturday joyful at my body's triumph
over virus, breathing again without pain and enjoying
winter and the cold that keeps us sane and sober.
But by Sunday my mortality had returned.
...

Negligible morsel of biomass
my fat belly, formerly abs
insignificant yet it occupies me
hourly while bored or hungry.
...

1

Sunrise, late winter
skunk smell
...

Start the day. In what way
was the cold spring, last wet summer a
global warning, indicator. Says
...