In The Immense Daylight Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Devoted to the cornices of tadpoles,
And this is the way we sing: the way I have been together
With the lips of female mouths,
Across the stamens of high school, and down the truancies of
Exotic blue streets:
Most by myself without any help, and down those ways of sun,
My bones popping a rhythm to my flesh
Underneath the flag of sky that vagabonds,
An imperfect art that can be spoken to foxes who den underneath
Carports wayward of where the housewives are cooking;
And it must be wondered of the two which one is
More alluring;
And then my mother in her shift in the carport of a small house,
The clouds building and swearing so much weather,
The apiaries singing like kidnapped children;
But even though I have smeared my bones over all of these places,
Your mothers children still sing to me when we are
Alone Alma,
And you sometimes read the words which I sing to you,
The way a house cat wards of a rattlesnake while she is defending her
Young across the cinderblocks atop of which the gold fish
Is wishing insouciantly and forever young
By the graveyards of the minutes, and by the sudden flashes unnoticeable
In the immense daylight by which we have sworn our mutual love.