Robert Rorabeck

Rookie - 450 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

Wet Dream Of A Well Crafted Boy - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Now through the arrhythmias in the screen doors of
Common hotels,
I can hear the traffic dismissingly burning their taillights
Like the devil’s lanterns, like the red tide of her
Sea life,
In the wishy-washy gardens of open keyholes where the little
Fruits slither,
Where the eyes of man and ambiguous baseball players
Peep
When she is raining naked on the handball courts, body raised
Like a thug pealing into a migration stuck like wet paper
To the lip of a wet dream of a well crafted boy in
A private school.


Comments about Wet Dream Of A Well Crafted Boy by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Monday, April 12, 2010



[Hata Bildir]