Above The Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Here, at least, we have new monuments and
Times for the dollar—
And checking the minute hands of all of our
Scars, at least different times to survive:
While we have our few minutes,
And the earth ticks off its monstrosities across
The heavens-
While, then, at least and un ceaselessly
We can at least count of her different times
For her,
And in at least invariable speeds—
Try to pretend that she lactates just as beautifully
As all of the heavens:
And, at least in this place, this seems to be the
First and the last of her—

While monuments build, hugging to the first and
The last of her,
We continue to continue to build for her from
Somehow,
The first and the last of the monuments making for
Forever
Their few minutes above the clouds.