So Far From The Sea Poem by Robert Rorabeck

My dog licks his forepaws,
Imagining I am as kind as a god of few colors,
As I want to write a book that is a kaleidoscope.
Down the roads of many ways,
Many animals,
Sweating, basking, giving birth—
And in the bigger zoos, Ferris wheels who are
All grown up,
Waiting just to turn around for the hands
Of another tourist,
Like a naked girl behind some glass:
And all of this,
The sleeping schools
And discombobulated housewives,
Like a valley of windmills turning amidst
A stony vineyard in Greece—
All of it a tangle like an unpublishable tale
Too close and yet so far from the sea.