Faded Page Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now with the greater light
Out
Galloping the underbelly
I cannot see the names
Of the things
God chose to cage me
With in this world's
lonely exhibit;
With his light failing
Slink forth the scavengers,
The tinkers,
The half-blown men
Who take tickets to ride
The girations
I keep alone;
When the palate drips
Obliquely where
The mountains bleed,
And the clouds drape like
The inky tentacles of
An octopus
And night's sea blinds
Our eyes
Like an owner
Trying to put a
Skittish horse in a trailer;
There I come,
Like a slinking skunk,
Like an industrious spider,
Like a scavenging racoon,
And put down the
Restless things only I can
See inside me
In oscillating marvels
On this faded page.