Robert Ronnow
                                                  Absolutely Smooth Mustard

                              Material Life

Absolute science and art of being whole
            at one and under no delusion that
                        mankind (or nature) give a shit
                                    whether you amount
                                                to something or not.
                                                            Narrowed down

nothing but matter matters, matter, content
            of life (serious, love it) hate
                        death, for the hell of it, to
                                    see what it's like in
                                                the heart of

Deeper and deeper I go
            but who would bother to kill me
                        or love me? Belonging to the drums
                                    of wooful war I
                                                woof and bay like
                                                            every other

Down I go to the depths of material life
            the material is spirit wrought
                        by the material world. The
                                    drum and jet plane
                                                the bird and sumac
                                                            the pollen

No answer is forthcoming for the young fool
            importunes to ask too frequently
                        the fool's question. What
                                    is my next move. He
                                                steps lightly and does
                                                            not seem to care
                                                                        quite where.

material world is reality, my friend
            and sadness is the spiritual root
                        without which the love-nut
                                    may be reached only
                                                by stretching
                                                            the emotions

raw, where desert delights exhibit
            movement in the sunlit light. Where
                        none find their way
                                    without following leaders
                                                sometimes the wrong way.
                                                            The path

apart from the dance or the dancer who
            cutting cross country laughs
                        at his perennial fright of being
                                    caught outdoors, out of sight
                                                alone with the wind and rain
                                                             for days on end
                                                                         in hiding.

on the roof, the telephone ringing,
            books getting delivered to the library free,
                        gratis, no fight, no love
                                    a meager understanding
                                                of what rolls
                                                            the earth.

rolls the earth (and may sometimes rock it)
            each of us achieving the gravity of a planet
                        and pulling the world apart with our loves.
                                    Taking existence beyond the limits
                                                set for it, into
                                                            the universe

We went out beyond the surf
            into the adirondack of trees waiting,
                        wanting nothing, mountains
                                    wanting to grow slowly.

Copyright 1985 & 2007 by Robert Ronnow.