The Thousands Of Confections Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Kidnappings in the flickerings of the spin thrift features
While they all get up, cartoonish and busy-eyed
And the daylight peels and hides for and until
A thousand afternoons keeping
The most beautiful girls concealed away into the afternoon's
Rainstorms of all of their bedrooms—
This is how it is concealed and how it pans out:
Beautiful upon beautiful echo—homeless and without
The day waiting for the night of the stars-
Beautiful in all of her telepathy just waiting for her to
Cry—
As the eyes of wolves and crocodiles pan across all of
The ballrooms of the amusements of rollercoasters
Until they touch their own wetness to the
Venoms,
And the earth spins around and around in all of the
Thousands of confections
Of its excitable convictions.