Bright And Coital Philanthropy Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Daydreaming of grazing on a god,
Heaven seems almost possible:
Strange indescribable eyes are caught in
The teal bosoms of someone’s mountains,
Her armpits the concavity of insouciant chalices
That could drape her body over my own,
Like riding in a cloud bank on a fair holiday.
All that spirit the traffic couldn’t arrive at,
Hunting for her, but going home without
Her womb,
A hutch of flowers some rabbit tongues and nibbles,
Making the sky squeak like a well used bicycle,
Making the moon change colors like a chameleon
Anemone,
Like the epiphanious ornament crowning the
Christmas tree,
And then she coos to her child like banks of snow
Sliding down from the altruisms of all too red institutions,
And we go to sleep for awhile,
A kine drunk in its blistery meadows, sated and tonguetied
By what it supposed it should never have
The lay of the land shifty with snoozes and avenues
Of concordant wills supposing in common shelter
Underneath the mobiles of this gift basket of
Suddenly bright and coital philanthropy.