The Imagination Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I once sold fireworks to a cloud
And to the wings of a jet plane
That we were trying to settle together:
Inside the desert didn't belong to us:
We were just trying to make some money
As we put our first born sons to sleep,
And I don't suppose any of you are still
Listening to this now,
Since where I've been sleeping and where
I've put myself once or twice,
Across the smiling lips of the cadavers
And across the towns and the cities that the
Bees pollinate without waiting for the
Cows to come home—
Those bovine homonyms have their
Own Disney Worlds,
And the mermaids that get paid to entertain them
Cut and cross their legs—
And then there are the airplanes again—
Up above the sky—
The sicknesses come inside the cut and colorful
Forms of unicorns—
All of the imaginary creatures gathered together
In an unruly crowd—
I so wish that they could imagine the imagination
To control themselves
Before I was put one last time underground.