Photo by Kormoran
I love the work of Ronald Baatz, as evinced by this review of his chapbook, Bird Effort, from Kamini Press. He writes great, brief poems without any constraint as to form. They are what they are, natural as a morning glory found twirling its way through the world.
Recently Ronald sent along three poems that I enjoyed so much I asked and received permission to share them with readers of The Hut. He kindly acquiesced.
Often when I think of his work, the word delicacy comes to mind, not just in execution or image, but a certain delicacy of feeling, more implied than stated, running just beneath the surface.
Here are 3 poems that grabbed me for a variety of reasons, with one uniting element: the eye and sensibility of Ronald Baatz:
By the river
I find a wooden flute
with holes rotted in it
Consider this a meditation haiku. You have your assignment.
A crow lands
in its shadow-
I land in this poem
At first glance, this appears to be glib, a post-modern ditty of sorts. Look again, at crow, at shadow, at person.
Her lipssoft asant dirt
Six words and the lump in my throat won't go away. Every time I read it.
looking younger than me
the scarecrow casts
translated by David G. Lanoue
Photo by Gerry Lewis
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