Netflix, Hulu; Contingency
By: Robert Ronnow
Neftlix, Hulu, autumn elaeagnus
thorns, small hairy buds, twigs hyper-lenticelled
fruits supposedly edible, leaves elongated, oblong
xerophytic but found in wetland
introduced species, some say invasive
Xbox is invasive
Hulu is the best source of foreign films
and foreign films represent reality better than American
although reality is not always what we're after
silliness, silly sadness, and relentless laughter
letting my web site go to seed
writing badly is the best revenge
eventually your doctors find something in you they can't cure
causes some fear, offers some certainty
you're required to tell your sons and brothers about it so they can make informed medical decisions going forward
let's posit the dead, like the dream-lover or -killer
is you in disguise, a facsimile or factotum
stand-in, an actor or actress remembering lines
which are your memories, or if you're not in movies
divinations of things to come, earthquakes and volcanoes
life goes on without a hiccup
you saddle up with the three gentlemen to the River Friday
where a new life begins without sleep as a soul, at least that's the story they tell
in these scientific times we apply Ockham's razor, i.e. the afterlife
will most likely be most like the life before life
when it gets too late to exercise
ignore time, learn slowly to go slowly
through life, rise
early, there is no time only change
an empty belly's holy
and a pussy willow's so alive its buds want to burst
in mid-February when the sun stays up in the sky more than January
this is what I write about, not Tolstoi, nor war
not one conversation or love scene between a man and woman
or illustration of what man has done to man
cars pass I never wave
so many guys are belly fat, women butt fat and they want to sit right behind you in the bleachers eating fried foods and wearing allergenic perfumes
I like the motionless perfection of autumn elaeagnus
wind in white pines
crows do not annoy but dogs do
a porcupine or coyote is a lucky sight
barred owl or pileated woodpecker
and a black bear is quiet reality itself
I said to the doctors 54 or 84 you always seem to want more when they said I'm too young to die
I said dying chooses you you don't choose dying, so it's not my fault
yesterday's walk, today's work
there's no percentage in searching for significance, wanting meaning
and no percentage in respecting death unless it's imminent
I admire the writer who writes 10,000 words per day no matter what
who's got plot
a plague or fire, a spider or a tiger in a boat
stolen Louisiana votes or endangered alligators
in my case common pipewort or pickerelweed floating in a northern lake
egrets, loons and hawks
on your winter walk cedar waxwings foraging for soft rose hips
and talking like people talk
about this and that, work and child rearing, not religion or politics
keeping it light and friendly
eating chili and chocolate chip cookies
passing time watching a football game, the superbowl or a movie usually a romantic comedy
“Events will still pile up, with or without an identity willing to organize them.”
The moon gazes
through April’s silver maple.
To work, to drive,
to drive to work.
Earth’s half-in, half-out
of the sun’s habitable zone.
The rushing stream topples old trees;
the peaceful father, mother.
Powerful with eternity,
blinding with intensity.
necking in the front seat.
Moderation, persuasion, elections.
Way stations, stopgaps, safe havens.
Cheap jewelry can be sexy;
stop fixing things with duct tape!
Humor is the only remedy,
not to hate those in authority.
And ritual is remedy,
a death song.
Nothing but matter matters,
chipmunk, groundhog, skunk.
Do not provoke
an angry baboon.
Why care about the future,
the dead don’t live to see it.
I’ve come to see
if this is true.
Robert Ronnow's most recent poetry collections are New & Selected Poems: 1975-2005 (Barnwood Press, 2007) and Communicating the Bird (Broken Publications, 2012). Visit his web site at www.ronnowpoetry.com.