In spite of his unassuming campus presence, Ron is no reclusive writer. You'll find him in coffee houses and at gallery openings, performing his work wherever he might find a receptive ear. And his poems beg to be heard, the spoken cadence working in counterpoint with the written form. Audiences delight in the spoken rhythms, and hear hints of the careful structure that supports them.

Watch Ron for a week, and there's a good chance that you will never see him writing. But you might run into him at an art gallery or a concert, find him admiring a building, or interacting with friends. This language artist spends most of his time in keen observation of the world around him. He allows the poetry to emerge, one phrase at a time, until it takes on the form that we see on the page.

Ron does not look to any particular writers for inspiration. But he shares the same kind of "split expression" that is found in the works of poet/novelists like Stephen Crane, Sylvia Plath and John Updike. Each of them is known for their works of narrative prose, as well as for their more classically structured poetic works. Ron's narrative outlet is the novel, and he has two completed manuscripts to his credit. But if his topic is more philosophical and ruminative, you can be sure he will prefer a sonnet or a lyric.

It didn't take a lot of research for Ron to write the sonnet, F-O-R-M. Inspiration came in the simple act of trying to pay a visit to a friend. A bit of unexpected free time and architectural circumstance yielded this sonnet for Michael. I don't know if it was completed in time to leave it on his door, but it clearly began to take form there in the doorway.

The evocative images in Graveyard Song would have been striking enough in a prose setting. But placed within a lyric context, the images acquire a sense of movement that makes the concluding couplet poignantly inescapable:

As life itself must wane,
Goes the keystone, grain by grain.

I don't know Ron's perspective on musical settings of poetic works, but I do know that he places the highest value on active communication. He is best known in the community for his participation in poetry readings, yet you will never see him with text in hand. All his work is done from memory, giving him the freedom to engage the audience in a more interactive experience.

F-O-R-M How many of me do I see? Three: smiling, tilting head in time, Parallel lined faces of mine. Waiting at your door for your face, I am kept company by my own In triplicate, an intricate Coincidence rendered in glass. Alas, you are not home. How lame! This strange absence of a good friend Has me playing looking glass games. You, who are dearer than my mirror; I wish you were near, here, right now. How many of you would I see? Three-in-One, like the Trinity. ©2000 by ron P. swegman. all rights reserved. used by permission.

Recognition comes slowly for an emerging poet, and Ron is not above a bit of shameless self-promotion to help the process along. He runs a small press -- Rush 2 Press -- and has developed a format that suits his needs. That format is the folded broadside. Similar to the Japanese illustrated poem card, the titles he produces can be considered complete, stand-alone, stand-up art objects. They also serve as the poet's business card.

Ron probably has enough quality material to be gathered into a book, but don't expect him to ever abandon public performance. He has a bit of advice for the academic, book-bound poet:

Speak To Me In your mind: Big books. Still, the dullest Of hooks Can lead you, Little fish, To shore. I wish You would evolve And walk. Be a human And talk. ©2000 by ron P. swegman. all rights reserved. used by permission.

• The online arts journal, HiNgE:
  • Volume 1, Issue 3 - October 2000
  • Volume 2, Issue 1 - April 2001