Martha Ronk - In a Landscape of Having to Repeat
I’m going back and rereading my favorite books of poetry these days, or at least I think I’m going to. So far, I’m rereading Martha Ronk’s In a Landscape of Having to Repeat. And then what will be next.
In a Landscape of Having to Repeat
In a landscape of having to repeat.
Noticing that she does, that he does and so on.
The underlying cause is as absent as rain.
Yet one remembers rain even in its absence and an attendant quiet.
If illusion descends or the very word you’ve been looking for.
He remembers looking at the photograph,
green and gray squares, undefined.
How perfectly ordinary someone says looking at the same thing or
I’d like to get to the bottom of that one.
When it is raining it is raining for all time and then it isn’t
and when she looked at him, as he remembers it, the landscape moved closer
than ever and she did and now he can hardly remember what it was like.
The Approximate Form of Beauty
The approximate form of beauty was where we stood looking out
at the beautiful view.
Backing off is the only way.
But I like it too much one of them said.
The approximate time is 11:42 and your time is up.
The relative motion of two objects moved.
Proximity is neither like nor not like.
A camellia in a glass bowl like the one yesterday.
Who’s to say this is like that or I like it or taking it in.
I write to you as an approximation of intimacy.
Doesn’t one want to move out over the edge.
You taste like grass, he said.
It was precisely 2:45.
A quarter of an hour becomes an arc, a repeated habit, the fixity of fixed ideas.
How odd to have had the thought, I’m going to have a splendid time.