Not Just Tomorrow Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Knocking one out as the
Saints go marching like ants,
Under the rings of cherubic lattices,
Just as chubby as rabbits, their whiskers ululating
Pejoratively into another lettuce garden;
And I do this to resurrect my friends, and to
Befriend my sisters:
I get warm on the evaporated substances of my youth,
And I cuddle to her like resilient fish surviving in its
Sea of fire,
Like a poor student emoting all that he feels underneath
A broken down bus
Until it finally takes flame and becomes the impassible
Dragon,
Under which all of the earlier muses fail or are sacrificed,
And the rivers of beneficent incest begin to sing out loud:
The conquistadors come again,
Silvery polished and caroling; and everyday there is a wedding;
And beautiful things tend to happen in these moments
Where water and sunlight falls expeditiously and not
Just tomorrow.