Ron. Lavalette
Ron. Lavalette is a poet living in Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.

Ron. Lavalette's Writings

Poem Feb.11.2009 So Much Depends Upon A Red Wig Published by: The Higginsville Reader Ronald hasn’t shownfor several years nowsince he came to cut the ribbonand open the public doors;has only sent an emissaryonce or twice a month:eighteen wheels and a logobearing frozen potatoesand placemats or paper bags. Manager Mike pines,longs for a simple glimpseof pancake, rubber nose,or a pair of two-foot longred plastic shoes.He watcheshis all-expenses-... Continue Reading »	Poem Feb.11.2009 I've Married The Fly Published by: The Writer's Hood (Online, defunct) I should have been homealone in the kitchenheating and eating a burgerchecking the blue flameunder the cast iron pan.I should have beenwatching the cheese meltwatching the marbled fat,browned, sizzled into grease,run down the side of the pattylike a lava flow off Mauna Loa,infernal, inexorable, outtoward a flat black beach,broiled from above and below. I should... Continue Reading »
Poem Feb.11.2009 Betrayal Published by: Conspire (Online) Othello is a small gray box beside the bed. Two plastic tubes move air from one place in the room to another, but fail to inflate useless, hungry lungs. Late at night they lapse and I am helpless, lying in the dark, listening to mechanized promises and... Continue Reading »	Poem Feb.11.2009 Later She Said Published by: Conspire (Online) Later she saidwhen you see her see ifshe’s got those names rightsee if she’s got that listor the numbers reversed orwhat was his name on the paper thereThe doctor ought to know See if she thinkswe should save itif it’s red again orcheck the list and see ifyou can find out if she’swaiting for the doctoror she knows if I’mhaving any pain or not Tell her it’s red... Continue Reading »
Poem Feb.11.2009 Invitation: The Shepherd To Join The Meager Flock Published by: Raintown Review Invitation: The Shepherd To Join The Meager Flock Climb on down, do.We do not believe in gated airnor find ourselves, chosen, unfoldinginto welcomed and forgiving arms,chastened and repentant. No. We aretoo bold, always, and blind. Climb on downto be among those who, nattering,notice only the banquet’s crumbs; whoweave the lost threads of the Great Tapestryinto... Continue Reading »	Poem Feb.11.2009 Plains Bless The Newcomer Published by: Anthology Of New England Writers (#15) (Editors' Choice) Plains Bless The Newcomer The fortune of finding a keyringafter having been given the keys:shining ring on the sunny sidewalkat the bus stop; and the driver, friendly;these, and other blessings beside—a yellow note, taped to my door near midnight,Sandra, safe and away in The Windy City,a fridge with a freezer that works---these are the blessings of the plains,and... Continue Reading »
Poem Feb.11.2009 Janey At Five Below Published by: Moondance Janey leaves alonewhat she’s left behind. A door,closed, remains closed.Dark remains darkand Janey does not lingerlong enough to fix the blame. Janey breathesa slashing, glassy air. Shestands, transfixed, wreathed;her own breath her only halo. Continue Reading »	Poem Feb.11.2009 Cow Myth Exposed Published by: Idea Museum (Online, Defunct) Cow Myth Exposed Even when the second city had its fire,clearly, they experienced it first-hand.The library was the first go. A homeless man,smoking in the stacks, his clothes already smoky,fell asleep amid the news of Euclid, the historyof shape, and dreamed of conflagrations, of ashrising on waves of superheated air, then became it.It was hard to tell the place... Continue Reading »
Poem Feb.11.2009 Under Glass: Fears Her Horse Published by: Idea Museum (Online, Defunct) Under Glass: Fears Her Horse Nothing reminds us of you nowand nothing remains but these:a small stone adzeand a scrap of buckskin boot.It is recorded onlythat you sat near firesbut not that you felt the snow.Your sandstone bowls are gone,broken by the sun;you have taken them with youto an endless springbeyond that far blue mesa. Continue Reading »	Poem Feb.11.2009 Disappearance Published by: Idea Museum (Online, Defunct) DisappearanceWhile you are away, I go outinto the sunless morning.The door that closes behind mecloses forever. The house is an echoand the vacant windows reflectthe flat grey-brown mulch in your gardens.I have nowhere to gobut I get into the car and drive. All the signs are stopsignsPeople in the village stop, stareas I pass, seeing only half of me. Continue Reading »

About Ron.

(Sample published work at: EGGS OVER TOKYO)(Live blog at: SCRAMBLED, NOT FRIED)(Prose-ish at: SIX SENTENCES) Ron. started reading and writing poetry seriously in the late '60s, when a floral-necktied student teacher dumped a bunch of books on his desk, one of...

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