The Burning Latitudes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The Burning Latitudes



Booming this way in their hills,
The flowers there are miners
Of the sun; of course,
They are:
What else would they be
Doing,
Skipping school as the
Airplanes come and
Come,
Across the burning recesses,
In cardinals of the
Air,
Deciding across the burning
Latitudes
And increasing, increasing there.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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