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WitheredWings
My hands are as good as any Pandora's.

Poems

tread Jan 2013
Cracking my thumb with headphones on, I can just picture the eye of diagonal lady flitting in my direction curiously and gone, that's all. Kid with Red-Wing hat and Beats by Dr. Dre sits across from me *** there's nowhere left to sit, poor kid. Doesn't know me. Manifests that social anxiety for age-the-sames-or-similars. He's texting, avoids eye contact, not that I'm looking, nope nu uh not that I'm looking. Lady with flashing visi-light walks on bus as half-hedge is lit half-hedge is dark silhouette, bus lights. It's dark and rainy. Windows pretty fogged and bogged in dirt and smog and oh my God I feel the song it's verses on it's verses long it's words so vertical!
Redwing looks a little nerved, blanked, searching for saliva salvation in his Beats by Dr. Dre
texts again, I looked uh huh I looked I did this time I looked.

Bus bumps corner cruuuisin', aren't we a speedy bunch?
Cracked my thumb again old man diagonal looks I'm sorry. I'm sorry too. Girl with blonde streaks could be years old could be decades, probably a decade .7, getting off bus behind former diagonal lady, she'll forget my thumb you'll see. Miss her. No sir. Redwing sees me see him turns to look to stop request, uh he didn't look he didn't he's gone, sitting in seat ahead now, Redwing hat cooped in Beats by Dr. Dre, red Van shoes poking out till friend apparitions seat next to him, hi! Redwing takes off Redwing hat and chats apparition, turns hat back wards, forwards, nerved I bet, nerved I can tell don't pretend oh you're fine!

Stops coming so bye I'll talk to you later

special thanks to my parents for making all this possible.
LET the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere.
Let 'em hawk their caw and caw.

Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump.
He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of years
And the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head.
Let his red head drum and drum.

Let the dark pools hold the birds in a looking-glass.
And if the pool wishes, let it shiver to the blur of many wings, old swimmers from old places.

Let the redwing streak a line of vermillion on the green wood lines.
And the mist along the river fix its purple in lines of a woman's shawl on lazy shoulders.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
First person singular prohibited. In order
to be more crow.
War! war! war! war! war!

Then there's that lowland wetland bird
around the stunted red pines crying
Birdy, birdy, birdy, birdy.

Hear the redwing blackbird chirring
Her, her, her... she
as one might expect, Spring.

Words for birds
since they're inaccessible. Aim
binoculars left, right, up, down, missing every time.

At the piano recital
Aaron made the penguins run, run, run, not waddle,
from a hungry polar bear!

Everything passes, even a massacre,
but birds outlast cars
and words like chemical and holocaust.

Woodpecker climbs oak,
Connecticut.
Not one neighbor heard the knocking.

The voice of a pewee
whose nest has fallen out of the tree.
Oh my! Oh me!

What did the wood thrush sing
that summer evening
teaching its young thrush meanings?
www.ronnowpoetry.com