The Amusements Of Their Daylights Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Laughing as long as the hours of shoulder
Blades,
Of the clocks around here,
Building up to the forests—
The trees seeming as tall as cities—
And what secrets they hold,
Over the loves of Christmases—
The pacifying and jaundice haunts of
The stage coach in the middle of
Class on Sesame Street:
While the beautiful women are crying in
Mandarin from the next room where
My child sleeps—
And his mother is held over from
The lover letters that are in love with me:
And each waves has his beating heart,
And each kite his string—
The dog lounges at me feet,
As each bird finds its voice to sing—
To the particular sun, or to anywhere—
The busses circulating around the steps—
And angels of narcolepsy and independent rhyme
Lying in the gardens like basilisks who
Have forgotten the amusements of their daylights.