Robert Ronnow Poems

Not enough heat. Snow. Cold. and now rain
on Tuesday morning. traffic sloshes to work.
it is cloudy for the second straight day. the snow
was magical only for an hour. businesses might
...

What would be the point, in this first winter snow, of
      going
back to several of the women whose bodies I have
      known
...

I prefer to sleep and dream than face
this solitary room. No pity, I go on
without a drink and look with gay eyes on
my future in a forest or a city, someplace.
...

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
...

      Accepting aloneness, incomplete solitude, imperfect
            rest. The garden
wasted, pumpkin patch planted late, potatoes untasted
      left in ground.
...

i like to dress for an imaginary girl
(we will meet each other soon) by putting on
a silk tie with subtle Chinese birds
sewn in.
...

Two people cannot see the same way but they can teach
One another their ways. One gives up body and soul
To follow the flow of the historical woman until
He can close his eyes and glide through mountains
...

It's already hard enough to say anything accurately
without further obfuscating and camouflaging the soul.
The faces in the funeral pews are impassive, impatient
and the dead woman cares not what's said, isn't even
...

Blackbrush - Coleogyne ramosissima
the dominant understory shrub
in the pinyon-juniper canyons.
...

Appointment to have organ removed by robot-assisted
      surgeon.
Air-conditioned, no mosquitoes in the OR. When you
      arrive
...