Robert Ronnow


Robert Ronnow Poems

81. America The Seeing-Eye Dog 12/31/2014
82. Providence 12/31/2014
83. The Summer Noosphere 12/31/2014
84. Two White Wines 12/31/2014
85. Okay Love 12/31/2014
86. Election Day 12/31/2014
87. Born Again 12/31/2014
88. Can Poetry Matter 12/31/2014
89. Who Should I Thank? 12/31/2014
90. Eye Of The Tropical January Sun 12/31/2014
91. The Poet's Family At Her Funeral 12/31/2014
92. The Burning Of The Jews 12/31/2014
93. Prose 12/31/2014
94. Year Million 1/1/2015
95. Enemies 1/1/2015
96. Cameron Diaz 1/1/2015
97. Immigration 1/1/2015
98. Yogurt And Honey 1/1/2015
99. Nature's Intelligent Partner 1/1/2015
100. Not Like A Figwort 1/1/2015
101. The Scariest Stanza In All Of Poetry 1/1/2015
102. Let's Work The Problem 1/1/2015
103. Defiance 1/1/2015
104. Uncertainty 1/1/2015
105. The Happy Tectonics 1/1/2015
106. Wings Of Desire 1/1/2015
107. This Summer, As Ever 1/1/2015
108. Watching Homer Struggle 1/1/2015
109. F(X) 1/1/2015
110. Popper V. Niebuhr 1/1/2015
111. The World Without The Self 1/1/2015
112. Shade 1/1/2015
113. The Force That Placed Us Here Cannot Be Trusted 1/1/2015
114. Supermarket Celebration 1/1/2015
115. Either Way 1/1/2015
116. Four Word Poems 1/1/2015
117. Jack's Commitments 1/1/2015
118. Anomie 1/1/2015
119. Robot-Assisted Surgery 1/1/2015
120. Mom's Eulogy 1/1/2015
Best Poem of Robert Ronnow

To Have Loved Mary

Today is Sunday and I'm going to the ocean
or maybe not. Definitely not doing the laundry
or maybe I will. Moss and even a small tree
grow in the rotten stubs of the pier pilings.
The city is Seattle and it has a macho airport.

Give me the comfort of a moose knowing its
water supply. The mosquito's acceptance of its position
among a million mosquitoes. The pool of stagnant
water that remains one with the mothering ocean.
I drift on the air, less than a seed, a bacteria.

Or I am human, big dick, big brain containing
universal philosophic affidavit. ...

Read the full of To Have Loved Mary

The Listener

New York City is where people who are
disappearing go. It is very quiet
here, silent. A man and woman
made love below me. I could hear
the bedsprings ringing and the
woman singing in sensual pain.
My thoughts sped up as they humped
faster. Everything is dead in my room
except me and my plants. If I keep

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