Robert Ronnow


Upside Down The Ancient Bole - Poem by Robert Ronnow

The white-breasted nuthatch
upside down the ancient bole.
If it has no soul, neither do I.

Pencils criss-crossed on the desk,
sticks tangled on the ground.
Oblong lenticels, yellow stars.

We try to worship the divine
in our sexual partners. They shit and sweat diurnally
and fear their deaths. But the abstract

God has also died. He lied to say he was
eternal. Earth must burn, universe grow cold.
Old field species become ornamentals.

Mosquitoes prey on us, and black flies.
The body decays, and this is what you come
to love. And the ants that carry it away.

This morning, the profusion of species
contents me. The temperate zone is warm, late May.
The posture of that bird is good to emulate.

Topic(s) of this poem: ancient, body, deaths, earth, fear, god, soul, sweat, universe, worship


Poet's Notes about The Poem

www.ronnowpoetry.com

Comments about Upside Down The Ancient Bole by Robert Ronnow

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags


Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, September 11, 2015


[Report Error]